The Boy Who Loved
by Takeo
Summary: A Goblet of Fire, with Cedric not dying. Otherwise I tried to keep within canon as much as possible. There are bits of both Comedy and Drama, and even a Plot. But mainly a Fluffy Romance between Harry and Cedric. Slash. Characters owned by J.K. Rowling
1. To Be or Not To Be

**The Story of Harry and Cedric**

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_I have to start with setting things right. The rumours of the death of certain Cedric Diggory, a tall, handsome and extremely popular student of Hogwarts were greatly exaggarated. The truth of the matter is that the famous curse that supposedly killed Cedric was nullified by a considerable rarer occurrence. But, as you realise after reading this, claiming his death in the wizarding world media was an easy way out. After all, certain conservative wizarding circles could not admit the greatest hero of the century, the Boy Who Lived, was and is, in fact, gay. _

_The cover-up did not happen in Real Life (tm), being strictly a media stunt, nor did it last for very long. The staff and students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knew that Cedric did not die, and got to know about the true nature of their relationship. Many others suspected, and got confirmation to their beliefs at one time or another, when the boys in question were out of the school and came completely out of the closet. Anyway, the cover-up was much louder, printed on front pages with stupefying point sizes and much bolder typefaces than the later corrections somewhere near the classified ads. One of the end results was that poor Cedric had to explain his continuing existence for years afterwards, when meeting people who only read the tabloid headlines. I can never stop marveling how many of those there are around. After all, reading is a most useful habit if you want to be in the know. So read on, my friends, and stand corrected..._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 1**

**To Be or Not To Be**

It was the third day after Halloween and the selection of tournament champions. Harry was seething. He walked a corridor after the last class of the day with an almost visible black thundercloud floating above his head. His best friend had done what felt like the ultimate betrayal by not believing he hadn't put his name in the bloody Goblet, even if it was clearly above his powers to do so in the first place. Ron of all people should have stood by him, but instead he acted like Harry had been disloyal to him, not the other way around.

Harry was stepping so angrily, it was nearing running speed. Around the corner he went. A violent crash, and suddenly there were flying backpacks, swinging limbs and flapping robes. Harry fell spectacularly into one mingled heap with somebody who had been coming around the corner from opposite direction. After a bit of trashing and finding out which limb belonged to each, Harry found himself face to face with Cedric, lying on top of the older boy.

"Harry." Cedric said with a grin that suddenly made Harry feel all right, regardless of the several bruises he felt were about to manifest themselves. He didn't even realise that the grin wiped the whole Ron situation out of his mind.

"Cedric! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I think I'm going to live. The backpack landed under my head, so I didn't hit it to the floor. And you?"

"Nothing major. I really didn't put my name in that Goblet, you know." Harry blurted.

"And this was the best way of telling me that you could come up with?" Cedric asked with a wry smile. He seemed quite relaxed and calm considering the way they had just met.

"No, I... " Harry suddenly realised how close he was to the other boy. He could actually smell Cedric, whose eyes were just inches from his. They seemed very clear and bright, and they were laughing at him, but in a good way. He was not being mocked, only teased. And Cedric smelled nice. After having thought of that, Harry felt his ears getting hot and he tried to get up. Too quickly. Being flustered and momentarily awkward, he almost managed to kick the other boy in the groin.

"Stop!" Cedric commanded. "This is really getting dangerous. Let me." And Cedric rolled them expertly around so that he was on top and Harry below. Being taller, he had no trouble finding solid footing. After getting up, he offered Harry a hand. Harry took it, and Cedric pulled him up. Again they ended up face to face and close to each other. But this time Harry lowered his eyes. He could not look into Cedric's laughing eyes out of his embarrasment.

"I'm really sorry. Are you still ok?" he managed.

"No harm done. But I'm starting to wonder how on earth you can be so graceful on a broom... Or did you perhaps smuggle some firewhisky in from Hogsmeade?"

"Not me. You have to ask Fred & George if you want to get into the black market. Listen, I gotta go."

"Okay."

Harry grabbed his backpack and started off, still somewhat red around the ears.

"And Harry." He looked back to meet Cedric's eyes. "I believe you."

"Thanks." A delighted smile was spreading on Harry's face. When he turned and walked away, there was a new, more relaxed spring to his steps. Cedric watched him go until he turned the next corner. There was a peculiar expression on his face, a smile that didn't seem to be able to decide if it was a sad or a happy one.

The dinner that night wasn't among the better ones Harry had spent in the great hall. Actually, without the Cedric incident it could have been one of the worst. Harry had, after some soul-searching, decided that he would forgive Ron and act like nothing was awry. So he headed to his usual place next to Ron, who suddenly put his backpack onto the chair and started rummaging it. He answered Harry's friendly hello with a cold stare and said something very rude about not needing any backstabbing fame-seekers in the next chair. With gritted teeth Harry found another place.

Luckily the chair had a clear line of sight to the Hufflepuff table and Cedric, who was chatting happily with his friends and admirers. Harry had only to glance at Cedric to remember there was at least someone who believed him, and didn't act like a spoiled brat. Someone he might be able to call a friend at some point not in a very distant future. That made it very much easier to bear Ron's tantrums and ongoing hostility. But no matter how many times he looked, he could not catch Cedric's eyes, even if the Hufflepuff was facing Harry accross the hall.

This went on for days, which excruciatingly turned into a slow week, then two. Harry found himself wondering why the bad times seemed to drag their miserable feet, while happy days flew past with the speed of a whirlwind. He kept looking for Cedric just to get a smile from him to reinforce his waning hope that the other Hogwarts champion really liked him and wanted to be his friend. The few times he managed to see Cedric without him being surrounded by a ring of fans, his smile started of nicely, but turned almost immediately into a worried, almost brooding expression. Harry dared not to try his luck by actually greeting Cedric and speaking to him. Instead he slowly started to avoid the older boy and convince himself he only had imagined the friendliness, that Cedric really was as shallow a fame-seeker Ron was accusing Harry of being. All in all, the first half of November was a dark time indeed.

Hermione was the only close friend Harry had to talk to. And even that friendship was being under attack by the lies of Rita Skeeter. Three days after the Skeeter article, Harry and Hermione were alone in the Gryffindor common room. It was well past midnight. The situation had drawn them closer to each other, and they had fallen into a habit of staying up late to be able to talk freely.

"Harry," Hermione asked, "have you ever thought, you know, why you feel so hurt when Ron is being a blockhead?"

"Well duh, maybe because he is supposed to be my friend?"

"Friends argue, it is quite common, you know. I didn't mean that. Would you feel as bad if I was being a blockhead?"

"It's different. You are a girl. They do unfathomable things all the time."

"So you would just shrug and think nothing of it, right?" Hermione asked. "I'm supposed to be your friend too, you know."

"I _know_ you are my friend. You have always stood by me. Unlike Ron, who acts as if I cheated him. I'm afraid I'm loosing the stupid git for good."

"That is exactly what I thought. Harry, I have a theory."

"You always have at least five theories. Okay, tell me."

"This is important. It might be the most important thing in your life."

"I'm all ears." And despite himself, Harry was intrigued by now.

"Don't get mad at me if I'm wrong..."

"Now you got me all worked up. Tell me, I promise to behave."

"Harry, I think you are, you know..."

"No I don't! WHAT!"

"Harry, I think you are gay."

"No I'm not," Harry said, nonplussed. "Why do you say that."

"Friends don't loose each other, Harry. Friendship is a solid thing. I think you are so upset because you are a bit in love with Ron, and you fear of loosing him. Lovers you can loose."

"We're not lovers! How can you say that."

"I know you're not," Hermione assured him hastily. "I just think you're gay, or might be. I know for sure Ron isn't. Only straight boys can be so thick about how they feel."

"I'm fourteen, Hermione," Harry argued, "I'm not supposed to be anything yet."

"Don't give me that. I'm fourteen too. And I know that I want Ron."

"The git is all yours. I'm not interested."

"There is nothing wrong with being gay, you know."

"I know. I just don't think I am one."

"I take back what I said," Hermione said, exasperated. "It seems that gay boys can be just as thick as straight ones."

"I am not gay, okay!"

"Fine, whatever. Seen Cedric lately?"

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"If you don't know, that's going to be your homework," Hermione finished, "I'm sure Cedric wouldn't mind working on it with you..."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. The Scaly Beasts

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_The first big and practical step on the perilous path that made Harry and Cedric true friends and lovers was born out of Harry's acute sense of what is fair more than anything else. Theirs was not a love at first sight. Before the whole tournament business Harry's feelings towards Cedric, as far as there were any, were ambiguous. Had Cedric been a Gryffindor, they would surely have been friends from day one. But Cedric was a Hufflepuff, a rival in Quidditch and an annoyingly succesfull one at that. Be that as it may, Harry could not stand the idea that anyone should face a real live dragon without a fair warning. The sometimes infuriating but oh, so handsome and charming Cedric obviously qualified. Without the dragons, their fortunes might easily have been both different and separate. The arrows of love might have found other marks._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 2**

**The Scaly Beasts**

Harry didn't sleep much the night following the discussion with Hermione. The damn girl had forced Harry to actually explore his feelings towards Ron, himself, every attractive girl he had ever met, and, when there was no escaping it any more, towards Cedric. What he found out was somewhat disturbing. He liked girls, they were nice and everything. Some of them Harry admired because they were beautiful (Cho) or smart (Hermione). But the thought of snogging them only made him nervous. He was not exactly opposed to the idea, but neither had he any strong desire to do so. And he didn't have the faintest idea how he should go about it if he really wanted to snog them. This lack of interest he had always explained away with his somewhat immature age.

About Ron. He loved Ron, there was no way around it. But he didn't want to snog him either. He would have died for Ron, except on the days like the last couple of weeks, when he really only wanted to kill him himself. No, that wasn't really true. He didn't want Ron killed, he wanted Ron to be his friend, his brother-in-arms, his comrade again. He wanted Ron to come to his senses and be his brother. No sex there, but loads of affection.

Harry had never even thought he might be gay, until Hermione made him. He liked some blokes, sure. But somehow liking another boy and being gay had not connected in his conscious mind. Until now. He thought about Oliver, and recognized his admiration for him for what it was: infatuation ("Oh Captain, My Captain"). He thought about Cedric, his sweet smell and laughing eyes, and with blood rising to his cheeks (and another part of his body), he suddenly knew that he definitely wanted to snog Cedric. He wanted it bad. And as surely he also had no doubt that when the time came, he would know exactly how to go about snogging the handsome bastard.

Next day after Charms bleary-eyed Harry managed to speak to Hermione alone only for few sentences, before the daily lunch riot swept them to the hall.

"I've got to talk to you," he started.

"I thought you were," Hermione countered, "talking to me, that is."

"Yeah but you know, alone," Harry said.

"If you were alone, you coudn't possibly talk to me, now, could you?"

"Stop acting McGonagall, Hermione! This is important. It might be the most important thing in my life. Remember?"

"Okay, sorry. After dinner on top of the astronomy tower? Nobody uses it until the night falls properly."

"Perfect."

On both the lunch and dinner, Harry tried to catch Cedric's eyes once more. But either he was extremely unlucky, or Cedric was deliberately not looking anywhere near his direction. Harry didn't know what to do. He was so filled up with contradicting impulses he had trouble staying put and eating. In fact he ate hardly anything. He was elated because at least he now knew his heart. He wanted to walk straight to Cedric and kiss him in front of the whole school. He knew he couldn't possibly. He was afraid of how Ron would take the news and mad at him for still not even speaking to him. He was desperately trying to figure out a good way to tell Hagrid, Remus and Sirius. For some reason, Harry was sure Dumdledore knew already and would just look at him, eyes twinkling with pride, were he ever to tell him.

Halfway through the dinner a terrible thought hit. What if Cedric was straight?

Harry felt his insides turn to ice. He couldn't be. But what if Harry had read signs of flirt where there only was friendliness, when they were talking after the crash. He looked over to the Hufflepuff table to see Cedric flirting shamelessly, with a girl! The ice turned to something much more alive; a squirming, venomous thing, like a scaly beast inside him. "That boy is mine!" it screamed, and Harry felt a red haze rising over his vision. The rage towards the stupid, pretty girls trying to lure Cedric from him was almost overpowering. Harry clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. Then, he took a slow and deep breath. Once, twice, three times. The emerald-eyed monster stopped. Harry kept his eyes closed and tried to relax further. Six, seven, eight, nine. The beast retreated both slowly and reluctantly, vowing to return when it finally went.

When the dinner ended, Harry bolted like a hare, escaping both the beast, Cedric and the ridicule that regularly occured these days whenever Harry was around anyone else but Gryffindors. He had to wait a good fifteen minutes on top of the astronomy tower before Hermione appeared.

"How could you know," Harry demanded, "when I didn't even know myself?"

"Ooh," Hermione beamed at him, "so I was right, wasn't I?"

"Aren't you always." Harry said with a resigned voice. "But I bet you didn't learn this trick from any book down there in the library. So, how could you possibly know?"

"I'm a girl. They do unfathomable things all the time, don't they? It's called a woman's instinct," she giggled, "or a gaydar..."

"Please, Hermione! This is no joke. I've been up most of the night doing what you told me to do. My bloody world turned upside down. So tell me."

"It was just an educated guess, if you really must know," Hermione admitted. "But I had a good reason to suspect. For a couple of days I thought it was Cho you were hunting, but then I happened to see you staring at Cedric with Cho walking past within two feet of you, and you didn't even flinch."

Harry groaned. "Oh no, have I been that obvious?"

"Oh yes, darling, you have. But luckily there is this tournament thing going on. Most people probably think that you are trying to curse him from a distance..."

"He doesn't even look at me," Harry moaned, "and when he does, he turns all serious and brooding. I haven't got a smile from him since... Well, since the whole thing started."

"And, if I may, how exactly did 'this thing' start? I'm pretty sure it was three days after the Goblet thing, but what happened?"

"Really," Harry said, dumbfounded, "you are so good it is outright scary! And you didn't even ever take Divination."

"Collect your jaw from the floor and tell me what happened," Hermione said. "After classes that day you looked as good-humoured as a troll, but when you came to dinner you were floating a feet or two from the ground, I swear you were. Until Ron, that is. Then you ate nothing at all and kept staring at the Hufflepuff table like a man possessed. Hey, did Cedric," Hermione asked with an eager expression, "possess you by any change?"

"No." Harry replied sullenly. "We just bumped into each other."

"And?" Hermione asked.

"We fell."

"And?"

"Nothing," Harry said, "We got up."

"And?"

"I left."

"Did he kiss you?"

"No! I just, well... I sort of landed on his lap."

"And?"

"I almost kicked his privates," Harry admitted, grinning.

"You blokes are so strange," Hermione commented. "And?"

"I didn't do it on purpose, you dolt," Harry retorted. "Then he helped me up."

"And?"

"Nothing. He smells really nice."

"It's just that his pheromones and your reseptors click."

"I'm sure I haven't got the faintest clue what you just said."

"Never mind," Hermione said. "So he smells nice. Did you kiss him?"

"No!"

"So, you kicked him and he helped you up." Hermione sounded less than impressed. "Am I missing something, here?"

"I told him I didn't put my name in the Goblet," Harry said.

"I thought he knew that."

"I wanted him to believe me."

"And?"

"He said he did." Harry was grinning sheepishly.

"That's it?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Yes."

"No snogging whatsoever?"

"He was laughing at me," Harry added.

"But no snogging?"

"No."

"Oh no. You are in big trouble, Harry."

"What? Why?"

"I thought you just had hots for him," Hermione said, "Now I think you are actually falling in love with him."

"But will you help me?"

"How? Depends on what you want to do."

"I want to snog him," Harry admitted, blushing.

"Attaboy. A worthy goal, that," Hermione agreed. "We have to have a plan. Let me think about this."

But Hermione thinking could take quite a while, and while she did, days rolled past. All and all, Harry felt so much better now that he had told Hermione, and they spent most of their free time talking about Cedric and all possible and impossible plans to lure him into a trap. A pleasant one, they hoped, but a trap all the same. Hermione also tried to get Harry and Ron into speaking terms again, but they simply refused point blank.

Hogsmeade weekend came, and Hagrid wanted to show Harry something. So, hidden by his Invisibility Cloak, there he was. Standing in the middle of the night in the Forbidden Forest and looking at his nightmares all alive and kicking. Or flaming, if you will. Harry could not help thinking about the green-eyed, scaly beast of jealousy he had found inside him that one night at the dinner table. The Hungarian Horntail was a living manifestation of that internal beast.

After seeing madame Maxime and bumping into Karkaroff, Harry realised that both Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum were to know about the dragons from their respective teachers. But Cedric was not. Dumbledore would stick to the rules and Cedric would go to meet the terrible task with no warning. He might even die. Come to that, Harry might get killed himself, too, even if he knew about dragons beforehand. Shaken to the core, Harry decided he had to tell Cedric. He had to tell everything.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. The Festive Season

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_It is one thing to know one's heart and what, or should I say who, it desires, and completely different thing to actually get the other person in one's life. Usually, knowing is only the beginning of trouble, not the end. Finding out if the object of one's affection returns the favor may be surprisingly hard. And that trouble keeps repeating itself even after two persons have committed to each other. Sometimes I think it is a wonder that anyone finds a partner at all, and even bigger one if they stay happily together. _

_But lets go back to Harry & Cedric, lest we loose our path in the jungle of human emotions. They had their share of insecurity, misunderstandings and all-round unfavourable circumstances. For example the Yule Ball was a plentiful source of heartache for both of them, but especially Harry, who was not as used to the dating game as Cedric, to whom it was the second favourite sport right after Quidditch. As a matter of fact, Harry sucked at it. He was almost as bad as Ron._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 3**

**The Festive Season**

On monday morning Cedric still didn't know about the beasts. Not the real ones that were waiting for the Champions nor the emotional one that was gnawing at Harry whenever he saw Cedric flirting or laughing, however innocently, with his admirers. So, Harry decided to miss the beginning of Herbology and followed Cedric instead, despite protests by Hermione. Harry broke Cedric's bag with a finely aimed Diffindo spell to steal a moment alone with him. Being a practical sort of person, he started with the most important thing and told Cedric about the real monsters first.

What surprised Harry was the rather cold and suspicious look in Cedric's beautiful eyes when he heard the news that could save his life. The gray eyes were not laughing this time. Even the flash of fear Harry also saw in the other boy's eyes was better than the coldness. Fear he knew, he understood that. But he had done nothing to earn the suspicion Cedric was now giving him. And when Cedric asked why he was telling him at all, Harry was flabbergasted. Didn't he understand what kind of monsters they were talking about? While the fairness angle he first gave Cedric was true, it wasn't the whole truth, obviously. And just when Harry was trying to figure out if he had the guts to tell Cedric what he really wanted to, and maybe even kiss him for good measure, they were interrupted by Mad-Eye Moody. And that, as they say, was that. There is nothing more disastrous to romantic endeavours than a grumpy old auror with an all-seeing eye.

The next days are well documented elsewhere, so there is no need to repeat the events of the actual Task here. Every one of the Champions survived, but Harry was the fastest one to get past his dragon, thanks to the summoning charm Hermione helped him to learn just in time. The best thing in the midst of all the hubbub was Ron, speaking to him again and even ready to apologize. Harry had his best friend back! And on top of that Cedric was smiling at him again, a reward sweeter than all the points the judges of the Tournament could ever have given him.

"Good one, Harry" Cedric said, grinning like the day they crashed, eyes twinkling with laughter.

"And you!" said Harry, grinning back with a shining face. That was all the conversation they had time for. But during the proceedings Harry still could and did throw frequent glances to the older boy, which Cedric now returned with smiles, not frowns. His eyes, Harry decided, were not grey after all. They were silver. There was a happy glow in his stomach.

Following all the success, Harry was still quite frustrated. He was no closer to even speaking to Cedric properly. The ring of admirers that had surrounded only Cedric before the first task, were these days around both of them. And the announcement of the Yule Ball didn't make things any easier. Harry was asked in two days by three different (and previously totally indifferent) girls to the Ball. He declined, shocked.

"Hermione, you just gotta help me out here!" Harry pleaded, "Couldn't you come to the Ball with me. You are the only girl I am comfortable with."

"Only because you're afraid the others will try to snog you," Hermione replied. "No way."

"But why?"

"You have to learn. Besides, I'm waiting for Ron to ask me."

"He won't," Harry claimed. "You said it first. He hasn't got a clue how he really feels about you."

"And don't you dare even _thinking_ about telling him!"

"But... but why?"

"Then he would think I'm in love with him, of course," Hermione explained.

"But..." Harry was seriously puzzled, "But I thought you were."

"Of course I am, you idiot. But he can't know about it," Hermione said. "It would just make him cocky and then he wouldn't value me at all. He has to be the one chasing me, not the other way around."

"But why?"

"That's just the way it is with blokes. You gotta make them sweat for it. Now, promise me you won't spoil this by giving hints to Ron, okay."

"I won't," Harry promised. "If I did then he'd go with you, and where would that leave me, huh?"

"I'm not going with you no matter what. You've got to learn!"

"But I don't _want_ to snog girls," Harry complained. "I want Cedric."

"I don't want you to _snog_ the girls, you blockhead! I want you to learn how to talk to them. Pick someone you like, chat with her and get to know her a bit," Hermione adviced. "Then, before she falls for you, you have to tell her you are gay. After that, you can both relax and have the time of your life. I promise you, it'll be fun if you just pick the right girl. You will get another ally who will help you to chase Cedric. But it is vital that you tell her soon enough, or not at all. If she turns out to be the wrong sort of girl, you'd better seal your lips."

"Oh no," groaned Harry, "that is so unfair. Suddenly I should become the expert on girls now, even if I only want a boy."

"Stop whining, Harry. You're smart, you'll be all right."

Harry decided on Cho. He had always liked her, and she was one of the few girls Harry could think of coming out to. And, she was also one of the very few non-Gryffindors who had not worn "Support Cedric Diggory" -badges, which meant she probably liked Harry, too.

After spending way too much time worrying about asking girls to the Ball while not actually achieving anything, Harry and Ron promised each other one day to have dates when the day was over. Harry found Cho quite accidentally before he actually managed to get his nerves together. He asked Cho for a word, almost casually, he thought, until the giggles of Cho's classmates reached his eardrums. Discomposed and furiously blushing, he managed to pop the question intelligibly on the second try. It was a testament to Cho's warm feelings towards him that she didn't giggle, too. Instead, she was genuinely sorry, but she already had promised to go with someone else. Harry said that was okay, but he felt desolate. When Cho was leaving, he couldn't help asking who she was going with.

"Cedric," Cho said. "Cedric Diggory."

Harry's emotions went haywire. He had really fallen hard for Cedric, even when they had had very little to do with each other. Two small conversations, and he had been lost. And now, with Cho's last words echoing through his mind, he suddenly realised that all this time Cedric had been wooing someone else. And not just anyone, but the girl Harry liked the best in the whole Hogwarts, with the possible exception of Hermione. The one girl Harry would have liked to get to know, the one he was ready to open his heart to and speak about his feelings towards Cedric. The useless, shallow, cocky, self-centered feather-for-brains prettyboy Cedric! To hell with him, his mind decided. But Harry's mind couldn't put a stop to his heart bleeding burning tears from his eyes.

Meanwhile, Cho went to see Cedric.

"Hello, pretty boy!" she exclaimed.

"My love!" Cedric replied with a brilliant smile, "How can I be of service?"

"Stop being that flirty," Cho commanded. "I might get funny ideas. It could get downright embarrassing if your charms got the better of me and I started converting you to the straight side. By snogging, mind you."

"Okay, I'll save it for the boys," Cedric promised, "What's up?"

"Harry asked me to the Ball. I think he actually likes me, unlike a certain someone who just wanted a cover-up."

"You are my best friend and I absolutely _love_ dancing with you," Cedric said. "Is that so bad?"

"You're my ideal man, you know that. Oh why can't you have a twin?" Cho moaned. "A straight one. I _really_ need to snog someone or I can't stand being with you. Harry would do very nicely."

"Actually," Cedric said, hesitating and serious all of a sudden, "I was sort of eying him myself. He was so sweet when he told me about the dragons. I should never have listened to all that badmouthing about him. He was so innocently sincere, he didn't even understand why I was suspicious. And he keeps looking at me."

"Cedric, don't you dare!" Cho said sternly. "He's just fourteen! Three years younger than you."

"Look who's talking," Cedric laughed, "half a minute ago _you_ were ready to jump on him and snog him out of his pants. And I'm just two and a half years older. Harry's birthday is in the summer."

"It's not the same! I'm younger than you and a girl!"

"And where exactly was the difference?" Cedric asked. "Harry likes me, I know that. You should see the way he keeps looking at me. And he really wanted me to believe he didn't put his name in the Goblet himself. He wouldn't have, if I didn't matter."

"He likes me too, you insufferable snot," Cho claimed, and then grinned wickedly. "Listen, I have an idea. Let's make a deal. Neither of us will try to snog Harry, okay. Not until he makes the first move. And looking doesn't count. He will have to kiss one of us."

"That's not a deal!" Cedric hooted, "That's a declaration of war."

"And we have to decide on the rules," Cho said, pretending to be serious. "Now, there's nothing wrong with being casually around Harry, obviously. But we can't tell him we like him that way, or kiss him or anything like that. Touching is out of bounds, unless he is the one who does it. You agree on the terms?"

"And magic is totally forbidden," Cedric added, "You are way too good at potions."

"Of course. I don't want Harry the puppet," Cho said, "I want the real one."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Cedric replied, but he was grinning. "You are going to _hate_ me when I win."

"I hate you already, you handsome bugger." But she was smiling, too.

Parvati was definitely not the right kind of girl, but Harry was past caring. At least he'd have a date and could avoid McGonagall's wrath over shaming Gryffindors by appearing to the Yule Ball alone. The Ball itself was quite as bad a torture as Harry had suspected. Hermione, more beautiful than he'd ever imagined, was spending most of the evening with Viktor Krum. And Ron was being a troll, again, but at least his rudeness freed them of the Patil twins. The only good moments were a couple of brief encounters with Cedric and Cho, who were both being really nice, making jokes and smiling at Harry like _he_ was their date. But that made the evening even more confusing. However much Harry tried to enjoy the evening, he couldn't get past the huge lump of envy in his heart. By having each other Cho and Cedric were already stealing his daydreams. They had no right being so bloody nice about it, too!

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. The MerryGoRound

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_A school such as Hogwarts can be a very strange and sometimes outright hostile environment for a budding love. With all the growing teenagers around the air is often so thick with the hormones, one might prefer having a machete to cut through it. And love does not always mix with awakening desire. But also the social atmosphere can be just as hostile, full of both hilarious stories and vicious rumormongering. Oftentimes the mere embarrasment of being the target of rumors can cut down the tender flowers of affection before they have a chance to grow strong and resilient. The danger is obviously greater for the more unusual couplings such as Harry and Cedric._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 4**

**The Merry-Go-Round**

When Harry and Ron were leaving the ordeal called the Yule Ball, halfway up the marble staircase someone called Harry from below. It was Cedric, who still seemed to be taking the nice approach to breaking Harry's heart. After Ron moved on, propelled by Cedric's wordless but easily readable would-you-mind stare, it was Harry's turn to act cold. He didn't really want to. In fact he wanted to shout at Cedric, but the evening had worn his defences quite thin. He knew that if he were to let his feelings through now, there would be no end in sight. He'd end up bursting in both rage and tears, and probably at the same time. He had never thought fancying someone was this frustrating.

"Hey, Harry!" Cedric, started, and went on about owing Harry a favor 'cause of the dragons. He then told Harry to take a bath with the mysterious howling egg, and what's more, offered the password to the prefect's bathroom, which was supposed to be a major no-no for ordinary students. Harry couldn't help but stare, the advice was so odd. And Cedric so damn hot, but that particular thought Harry tried to push to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do any good to his cool composure. He had just started to believe to Cedric's good intentions, when the other boy ended with a mischievous grin and the farewell shot: "Gotta go, wanna say good night." He didn't have to say to whom, that bit was obvious to both of them.

Harry simply couldn't stand his heart plummeting and the ugly beast of jealousy rising its head every time he saw Cedric and Cho together. So avoiding them whenever he possibly could became his new favourite pastime. This led to both more intense efforts to corner him by both Cho and Cedric separately (when they were apart) and concerted smiling competitions aimed at Harry (when they were together). And that, as you might have guessed, led to an even more arduous efforts by unhappily ignorant Harry to avoid them. Even Ron was starting to notice there was something strange going on with his friend.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron said one morning when Harry had just pulled him behind an armour on their way to breakfast.

"Nothing," Harry said, not very convincingly.

"Yeah, right." Ron seemed annoyed. "You've become just as jumpy as Mad-Eye Moody. I'm your mate, you know. You can tell me, like, anything. Right?"

"Right. I'm sorry... I just don't want to see Cedric or Cho. Can't tell you why. Not here. Later, ok?"

"Why not?" Ron asked. "Oh, you're still hot for Cho?"

"Ron, how can you be so clueless?" snapped Hermione, who had caught them just in time to hear the last line. She was hungry, in bad mood and still holding a bit of a grudge to Ron over the Ball fiasco.

"What's your problem, Hermione? Harry has always liked Cho," Ron said. "He'd be crazy not to."

"Because she's popular and has a straight nose, right?" Hermione was becoming really angry now. "You are so out of it it's not even funny. It's Cedric he's mooning over, you blockhead."

"Shhh!" Harry tried to stop her, but it was too late. Ron did a sensational double take on Harry, who's ears were suddenly flaming, and Hermione, who had put both hands over her mouth. Luckily, everyone else was gone by now. Not even Peeves was around to hear this juiciest piece of gossip imaginable. And from such a reliable source, too.

"Oh, no," Hermione moaned. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to."

Ron's jaw dropped. "That… is it true? _You're_ _serious?"_ he finally managed.

"Yeah, I'm afraid it is…" Harry muttered sheepishly, "I couldn't figure out a way to tell you… Sorry about that. You're okay?"

"Not sure yet," Ron said, shaking his head. "It's a bit of a… You like _boys?_ You're mad!"

"Not all of them," said Harry. "You're my best mate, so _you_ I obviously loathe."

"That's a relief, at least," Ron said. "Because, I gotta tell you Harry, I would punch the living daylights out of you if you tried to snog me. You know I love you, mate, but still…" And then, suddenly he grinned. "Can I have the girls who try to woo you?"

"All yours, Ron," Harry promised, "as far as I'm concerned."

"Brilliant! No worries then, Harry," Ron concluded, "We'll make a cracking team."

"Boys!" Hermione said, but she couldn't help smiling. Broadly.

However empty the corridor was during the first outing of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, rumors did start flying soon after. Rumors about Harry and Cho being on snogging terms under Cedric's nose. Rumors of Cedric and Harry competing over Cho. Rumors that blamed Harry for the alleged arguments between Cho and Cedric. And yes, also rumors of love-that-dare-not-speak-its-name between Harry and Cedric. And the last one got also much less roundabout and considerably ruder wordings, especially among Slytherins.

Harry paid no heed to the rumors. Yes, he heard them, but only thought they were a result of his own infatuation. It still didn't cross his mind that Cedric might harbour similar feelings towards him, after all. And he had suffered worse than this round of gossip. Also, being able to talk to Ron about all this helped immensely. Now he truly had his best friend back, when he was able to be honest with him, again. And that felt great.

On a Tuesday evening after dinner, Harry was contemplating the golden egg, Cedric's advice, and possibly swallowing his pride about the advice so intently, he didn't see Cho until she was right in front of him.

"Harry," she said, "care for a walk?"

"Well, I was –" Harry started, but got interrupted.

"I won't have a 'no' as an answer. Got that?" Cho sweetened the message with a smile. "Come on, it will cheer you up."

"Okay, then." He couldn't help smiling back at Cho. She was, after all, his favourite girl in all Hogwarts (Hermione was like a sister, so she didn't count, really), even after stealing Cedric from him. And suddenly Harry realised that all the rumors flying around actually freed him from the insecurity he had felt when asking Cho to the Yule Ball. He couldn't possibly do anything that wasn't already in circulation as a gossip. So they went for a stroll near the lake. The weather was quite nippy, so there was nobody else within hearing distance. A perfect setting for a private chat.

"Are you still mad at me about Cedric?" Cho asked.

"What..." Harry asked, confused, "what do you mean? I never was mad at you."

"But you've been avoiding us both," Cho said.

"Oh, that." Harry said. "You noticed?"

"Come on, Harry! We're not blind, you know…" Cho said, exasperated. "Like what was that diving behind the armour stunt you pulled on us the other day?"

"That _was_ kinda stupid, I guess," Harry said, hanging his head and looking at his shoes. "But seeing you two made me unhappy. I didn't want to talk to you."

"And why is that?" Cho asked, and forgetting the rules she had made up herself, she took Harry's hand in hers and started walking again.

Harry felt positively unreal. He was walking on the lakeshore, hand in hand with Cho. This must look really romantic, he thought. And then he realised something was fundamentally wrong about the whole thing.

"Um, Cho?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Shouldn't it be Cedric," Harry asked, "walking here?"

"You do just fine. Isn't this nice?"

"Yeah, but I'm not... your boyfriend," Harry explained.

"Oh, you thought Cedric... We're not together," Cho said, blushing. "Not like that."

"But everyone in Hogwarts is talking about it."

"Everyone seldom knows what the hell he's talking about, Harry." Cho assured him. "You of all people should know better than believe the-merry-go-round. Or haven't you heard all that nonsense about you and me and Cedric?"

"But..." Harry was thinking furiously now, "that means... If you're not with Cedric... I mean, it's different from Cedric not being with you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Cho admitted, wondering where Harry was going with this, "I guess it is. Why?"

"So which is it?" Harry insisted. "Cedric would be barking mad not to want to... Oh!" Something clicked in Harry's mind, and everything that had happened between the three of them suddenly looked completely different. Now it was Harry's time to blush, and he did it with high style. We're talking about some seriously red ears here. "Cho, I _really_ must know. Is Cedric... does he only like... I mean... doesn't he like girls? You know, that way?"

There was a weird sort of mixture on Cho's face. Relief, maybe, definitely sadness and resignation, but also barely contained hilarity. Harry had a sinking feeling that the last one was caused by his obvious discomfort.

"It doesn't work like that, Harry," Cho admonished. "If I were to tell you, you'd first have to tell me why you need to know. This stuff is _private,_ after all."

Harry looked startled, scared and, funny enough, determined. This was the moment of truth. Luckily, Harry was always at his best in the moment of crisis. He looked at Cho straight in the eyes.

"I fancy him." Harry said simply.

"I do, too," replied Cho quite as honestly, "and more, I love him. But it's not enough."

"What would be?"

"He has to love back. You know, that way." Cho gave Harry a sly smile. "And you were right, he is gay."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, but he wasn't. He felt like flying.

"No you're not," Cho called his bluff. "It's okay, it's not your fault. He's always been like that. And you?"

"I suppose I have," Harry said, "but I only realised it a while ago."

"When you fell for Cedric?" Her voice was trembling.

"Yeah. But I actually fell _on_ Cedric first, that's how it all started."

"Oh, Harry." Cho couldn't help but laugh, but that also brought out the tears flowing from Cho's eyes, and she did nothing to hide them. "I know how you must feel. I should have known better myself, but he was so _lovely,_ I couldn't help falling in love with him, even if I sort of knew all the time that he wasn't the right one for me."

"And I only _thought_ he couldn't be interested in me," Harry said. "At least now I know that I have a chance. I can't imagine what it is like to you. Being around Cedric, I mean."

"It's not that bad, or I wouldn't do it," Cho said, drying her cheeks. "He _likes_ me very much, we're the best of friends. He's just too charming for his own good, that boy is. Some day he'll break a heart of somebody who's not as nice as we are, and then he'll be in real trouble."

"Nice?" asked Harry, with mock ferocity. "I'll show him nice. If he breaks my heart and means it, I'll smack him off his bloody broom."

"You know what?" said Cho with a blooming smile. "I really like you, Harry. If he breaks your heart, I might even help you with the smacking business."

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. The Merboy's Lure

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Almost every one of us humans remembers their first kiss. And I don't mean kisses by one's parents as a child, or the embarrassing pecks on the cheek by old relatives. I mean the kind of kiss that changes a person. The kind of kiss that means the end of the childhood and the start of an adventure into the strange but glorious world of sexuality. I know I do. And I know Harry will never forget his. Then again, being Harry, the circumstances where he got his first real, meaningful kiss, were quite extraordinary. And if you're telling me the settings don't matter, you have never seen the more elaborate bathrooms of Hogwarts._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 5**

**The Merboy's Lure**

The next day at lunch Cedric managed to speak to Cho about something he had first noticed at the breakfast table. Harry had stopped hiding. Instead he kept looking at Cedric with an intensive look on his face. However, Cedric had no idea what was behind the change, so even if he was happy to return Harry's looks with smiles, he was also baffled. And worried. He had not missed the fact that while Harry kept looking at him, he was openly smiling at Cho. So he found his way to Ravenclaw table and Cho after finishing his meal.

"What has happened to our Golden Boy?" he asked. "He's come out of hiding."

"I know," Cho replied with a knowing smile. "Our little game is practically over."

"What? How? I don't believe you."

"You'd better. I managed to ambush him after dinner yesterday. We had a _really_ nice stroll by the lake." Cho looked like a cat who had just had a bowl of cream. Or a tasty little bird.

"Not holding hands, surely?"

"Oh yes, holding hands and everything."

"But..." Cedric looked ruffled. "But he didn't kiss you, did he?"

"No, he didn't," Cho admitted, "But I know how he feels."

"Tis ain't over yet, doll." Cedric replied with a gruff movie gangster imitation, Humphrey Bogart style. "Not 'til the fat lady sings."

"Oh," Cho pretended round-eyed innocence, "Madame Maxime sings, too?"

Early Thursday morning long before the breakfast time in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry there was a crisp knock on the Headmaster's office door. Dumbledore did not have to guess who was calling upon him, he knew that knock from years of experience. Also, very few persons were up at this unholy hour. He wouldn't, except for the fact that he'd actually been too busy to get to his bed at all.

"May I have word with you, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall asked after entering the room.

"Certainly, Minerva. How can I help you?"

"This is about a student," McGonagall explained. "A very special one, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Go on."

"I've been hearing certain rumours. About Harry Potter."

"Really!" Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised. "And since when have you started paying any attention to rumours, my dear Minerva. It is certainly very unusual of you."

Minerva McGonagall turned a delicate shade of pink, which was also quite unlike her usual steely countenance. "This one is altogether different," she said haughtily, "it fits my own observations and is of vital importance."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Dumbledore said. "Go on."

"Please, Albus, don't mock me," McGonagall said. "You know perfectly well that is no proper word. And it is too early for jokes, anyway."

"If I can say 'curiouser', the word must exist," Dumbledore argued, "and I think there's reallyno wrong time for jokes. But please continue."

"Oh well, have it your way. It's about the Tournament," McGonagall said. "You know of course that the Goblet is supposed to pick for each champion the one person he or she will miss the most."

"Yes?"

"We might have a serious problems ahead with Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory."

"So you have noticed their, hrm, shall we say... mutual gravitation as well."

"Indeed. Frankly, the looks Harry keeps shooting at the Hufflepuff table are quite scandalous. For once I am quite happy the other students are so busy behaving badly, that most of them never notice a thing."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "I, however, think it is quite endearing, and might turn out to be the very best thing ever to happen to them."

"You, dear Albus, have always been a libertine. But what shall we do about the Tournament and the Goblet?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Dumbledore replied breezily. "The makers of the Goblet were no fools. They must have realised that Tri-Wizard champions would be falling in love with each other every second time or so. The silly cup will probably pick persons that will confuse the love life of the champions the most. That's what I might do, anyway. It could turn out to be very entertaining."

"Really, Albus!" McGonagall said, looking scandalized.

That was the morning of the very same day when Harry finally took Cedric's advice, and a bath. Not that he smelled bad or anything. But the Shrieking Egg was quickly becoming a stinky little problem (figuratively speaking, of course), and Harry had no reason to ignore Cedric's tip any more. Late at night he armed himself with both the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map and went adventuring.

The prefects' bathroom was simply breathtaking. White marble, a hundred golden tabs around a pool-sized bathtub, soft candlelight and a huge pile of equally fluffy towels. Harry took off his clothes, filled the pool with different scented and magicked baths, swam a couple of laps, and opened the egg. And closed it, as quickly as he could. Still shrieking. Harry almost joined in, being startled by Moaning Myrtle, the resident ghost of the Hogwarts' plumbing system. Besides annoying and a bit embarrassing, the meeting was very helpful. Myrtle had seen Cedric solve the riddle, so she was the expert now, a role she seemed to find immensely satisfying.

After the egg had revealed its message, Harry started to wonder how to persuade Peeping Myrtle, as he now called her in his thoughts for obvious reasons, to leave him alone so that he could dry and dress in peace. But suddenly there were footsteps, and the door creaked open. Myrtle disappeared in one of the tabs, but Harry neither had chance nor the time to hide himself. He just stared.

"Cedric!"

"Good evening, Harry," Cedric said. "Having fun?"

"Well, I did solve it. Thanks." Suddenly, Harry felt like he could stay in the bath forever. At last, a chance for quality time with Cedric. Just the two of them. There was an exited flutter in his stomach.

"Mind if I join you?" Cedric asked with an infectious grin.

"If you don't mind being goggled at." Harry grinned back. Cedric's eyebrows raised, but he looked rather pleased. "Myrtle is around," Harry explained after a pause.

"Oh," Cedric said, and picked up his wand. "No worries, there's an easy fix for that." And when he flicked his wand, there was an extremely annoyed scream followed by a stream of foul language echoing in the pipes before rapidly disappearing into the distance.

"What was that?" Harry asked. "The spell, I mean."

"A ghost repellant spell. Very useful, when you need some real privacy. I can teach it to you some other time. I don't think it's in the curriculum." Cedric started to undress. Harry was floating comfortably with his arms on the rim of the pool, and he saw no reason to move away from disrobing Cedric, and plenty to stay put. The gradually revealing sight of the older boy's lean but muscular form raised Harry's temperature by at least a couple of degrees. Finally Cedric was stark naked, and Harry felt his mouth watering. If there ever was any doubt in his mind that he really wanted Cedric, there were none left when the boy in question turned to him casually, with all the good bits in plain sight. Harry was mesmerized, and didn't even try to pretend looking elsewhere.

"How's the water, Harry?"

"Um... Hot."

"How strange." Cedric smiled. "I thought the water was spelled so that it's always perfect temperature. So maybe it's just you."

Harry was blushing, and turned to swim a lap. There was a great splash, when Cedric dived in and, propelled by the jump glided past underneath Harry. He came to surface just in time to turn and meet Harry in the other end of the pool. Not being a good swimmer, Harry was impressed. So impressed, in fact, that he almost collided with the other boy. Again.

"We seem to be making a habit of bumping into each other," Cedric said after deftly taking Harry by an arm and guiding him safely to the edge of the pool. "I think you need swimming practise."

"You don't," Harry replied, with his pulse racing. "You're practically a merboy!"

"Thanks, but I've had loads of practise. We live by a river."

"Lucky you." Harry was keenly aware that Cedric had not let go of him. He looked into those laughing silvery eyes, and forgot completely what else he was about to say. So he didn't. The moment seemed to draw on and on. They just stared at each other, while Cedric's grin faded and the look in his eyes turned intense. Very slowly, without breaking the eye contact, Cedric moved so that Harry was between him and the edge, enclosed by his arms.

"Harry, I –"

"Shhh..." Harry interrupted, while putting a finger to Cedric's lips. They were soft, and warm, and tempting. After another long moment Cedric suddenly nibbled gently at his fingertip. When Harry took away his finger, the nibble turned into a small kiss. Harry's eyes went wide open. This time he didn't blush though. He went white. The blood in his body had better things to do than color his ears.

"Cedric, I –"

"Shh..." Cedric was smiling again, and it was different from any other smile Harry had ever seen. It was a content, happy and easy smile, but also full of laughter and promise of something... even better. Then he tilted his head, coming within two inches of Harry. "This is it," thought Harry, but then Cedric straightened again.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't do this."

Harry was speechless. His euphoria melted like snow in Sahara. Tears welled in his eyes so quickly the left side of his brain made a note of mental imbalance.

"I thought... you wanted to," he managed with a trembling voice.

"Oh, please don't cry, Harry. I _do_ want to, but I _can't._ I promised not to."

"So you are with somebody, after all!" Harry couldn't help it. His tone was angry now, and accusatory.

"No, Harry I'm not. But I promised Cho that I won't try to snog you." And now there was a naughty grin spreading on his face. "That is, neither of us won't try to snog you unless you do it first. We made a deal."

"What!" Harry's head was spinning. Again, everything that had happened before looked suddenly quite different. "And what am I, a contest trophy?"

"Well, kind of. I'm sorry about that. You see, we were both head over heels about you, and Cho didn't want me to woo you, because she thought you're too young," Cedric explained. "So we made a deal. No snogging unless you do it first."

"Cho fancied me?" Harry asked, befuddled.

"Yes. Having second thoughts, now, are you?"

"No! But I thought she was in love with _you._"

"She is, I guess. But I like boys. And I like you, Harry, better than anyone."

Harry was wide-eyed again, and looking at Cedric with those startlingly green eyes. Cedric felt his heart miss at least three beats.

"And all I have to do is kiss you?" Harry asked finally.

"Yes."

"Come here then, merboy."

Cedric did. This time, though, it felt awkward. They were both so acutely aware of the significance of the embrace that they were simply unable to do it naturally. There seemed to be way too many arms and legs. But, however clumsily, Harry managed to put his arms around the other boy's neck, leaving it to Cedric to keep them afloat. They tilted their heads, first the same way, grinned, and tried again. Then, finally, Harry touched Cedric's lips with his own. Tentatively, first, but then Cedric pressed Harry's back to the side of the pool and kissed him in earnest. And Harry, being a good student, was quick to learn. After some minutes they simply had to stop for air.

"Wow." Harry's eyes were shining, and he wore a face-splitting grin.

"Yep, you got that one just right," Cedric said. Then he burst into laughing. "I just can't wait to tell Cho. She'll be absolutely _green_ with envy."

"Cho is all right." Harry said. "But please don't tell anybody else."

"Are you mad? Of course I won't," Cedric promised. "We'd never hear the end of it."

"I never want to hear the end _this,_" Harry said, snuggling closer to Cedric again and kissing him lightly.

"Lucky me, indeed," said Cedric after the kiss.

"But there's one thing that baffles me," Harry admitted after a while.

"What?" asked Cedric. "Only one?"

"If Cho was after me, too, how could she think I'm too young?"

"Beats me," Cedric said. "Girls, eh?"

"Right. They do unfathomable things all the time."

"Wanna get out?" Cedric asked. "There's only that much you can do while swimming."

Luckily, there were soft benches and divans around the walls for the prefects to rest and dry after bathing. This time, though, what took place on them was rather more active. And it was every bit as magical as Cedric's smile had promised.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Better Than Quidditch

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_For every hero, there must be a villain. And villains are notorious for trying to use love and other good and noble emotions of heroes to their own evil ends. With Harry, everyone knows and knew who the villain was. And that, by and in itself, should have been enough to keep Harry lonely as long as Voldemort was around. Let me ask you this: If you knew that a person you like was the archenemy of the most powerful and evil dark wizard of the century, would you risk your life by getting romantically involved with the person? Harry was extremely lucky, and Cedric extremely brave. They just didn't realise it in the blissful beginning of their relationship. Later they had to. Voldemort saw to that. _

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 6**

**Better than Quidditch**

The next morning found Harry Potter, surprisingly enough, in his very own bed in the Gryffindor Tower. He was able to get only a couple of hours of sleep though, after saying hot, wet good night to Cedric, with both of their tongues heavily involved. The 'good night' was actually rather off the mark, since it was more like an early morning by then. Besides, Harry had some serious trouble on his way back to his bed after the final embrace. He was only saved by Mad-Eye Moody, which can be a jolting experience, even without Severus Snape being around. Still, everything that had happened with Cedric brought a contented smile to Harry's face while he slept.

He was startled awake by a smack of a pillow, a good morning from Ron. Instead of retaliation with a pillow of his own, Harry just couldn't help grinning like a madman. Ron looked at him with a worried expression.

"You all right, mate?"

"Hmmm. Others gone already?"

"Yeah, so how did it go?" Ron asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Harry told him. "I got trapped in that trick stair Neville usually falls for, dropped the Egg and was almost caught by both Filch _and_ Snape. But it was _so_ worth it, even if I had to give up the Map."

"You lost the Marauder's Map!" Ron yelped, obviously shocked. "It's priceless, you know that."

"I didn't _lose_ it, Ron. I had to borrow it to Mad-Eye, after he saved me from getting caught by Snape. And he also saved the map."

"Really? But still. How come you look so happy?" Ron asked. "Your adventure sounds more like a disaster to me."

"Believe me, it was better than Quidditch. Heck, better even than winning the Slytherins in Quidditch. I had no idea anything could feel that good."

"What? Losing the Map? The trick step? The Egg? Are you bonkers?"

"No, you dork. Ced." Harry grinned again.

"Ced? You mean Cedric? What has he got to do with this? I thought you went out to solve the Egg!"

"And that I did. Let's go find Hermione."

"Wait. Did you..." There was an unsettling realisation dawning on Ron's face. "Are you telling me that you and Cedric... No!"

"Yes," replied Harry with a disgustingly happy smile, "I guess I am."

"You didn't! You're pulling my leg."

"Did, too." Harry insisted. "Well, you could say we did it together."

"You snogged Cedric!" Now Ron was grinning, too. "You dog!"

"Well, it started with snogging, yes," Harry grinned back mischievously "and ended with snogging. But there was something even better in between."

"Spare me the details," Ron shuddered. "I don't want to know, really."

Cho, on the other hand, wanted to know everything. She had just sat on the breakfast table when someone covered her eyes from behind, and whispered in her ear: "Guess who, sunshine."

"Cedric," she said, a bit annoyed. "Let me eat. I'm starving."

"So am I, and I bet my reason is the better one," Cedric said. "We need to talk. Let's take something with us and go for a picnic."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are," Cedric said confidently.

"Not without a good reason," Cho insisted, "I'm not."

"Game over. I won. Wanna details?"

Cho just stared at him for a moment. "You have a bottle for coffee?" she then asked.

"Smart guy that I am. Yes. And mugs, too." Cedric smiled like nobody's business.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

Thirty minutes later Cho and Cedric were sitting on a broad stone wall facing the lake. Cedric had been telling and retelling every word of his encounter with Harry the previous night. Cho was envious, but not quite green, and she quickly got over it. After all, she had already had time to get used to the idea that her two favourite boys were not meant for her, really. The story actually had her squealing and giggling in delight. Suddenly, somewhere during the third round Cedric paused, and shoot Cho a dirty look.

"You are a devious little woman, you."

"Me?" Cho said mockingly. "What can you possibly mean?"

"The little pep talk you gave me at lunch yesterday," Cedric demanded. "Was _any_ of it true?"

"Every word, literally." She looked at him cunningly. "You know, it is the very best way to lie, if you ever need to do such a thing."

"But you said you were about to win, that you had a hand-in-hand walk with Harry and you knew he was in love with you." Cedric was indignant now.

"I never said that! I said the game was almost over, and that I knew how he felt. Both were true. He _told_ me he was in love with you," Cho explained. "I knew that I only had to get you off your lazy ass to get you two snogging."

"And holding hands?"

"Sounds like you two were holding some other body parts last night."

Cedric almost died of laughter. "Guilty" he finally managed, stil giggling, "but I meant you and Harry. Bet _you_ didn't hold hands."

"Did, too. I took his hand, and he was too polite to refuse."

"Not only devious, but a rulebreaker to boot." But Cedric was grinning happily. "Anyway, I thank you. My lazy ass has never been happier."

"Come on, Happy Ass. We're gonna miss our classes."

The first chance Harry and Ron had to talk to Hermione properly that day was at the Charms. The class was practising Banishing Charms with pillows to minimize the damage. At first Hermione was livid, since Harry had made her believe before that he had mostly solved the mystery of the Egg already. Then Harry had to tell her about the poem and all. Finally Ron couldn't handle the pressure of the real news any more.

"Forget that bloody poem, will you," he blurted. "Harry got laid."

"What!" Hermione said, and her pillow went haywire, knocking over things on professor Flitwicks desk. She looked mortified, and then at Harry.

"So that's why you looked so smug all the time," she said. "I should have guessed it was something else entirely. Was it with Cedric?"

"Yes," Harry said, flushed. "He came in just when I was trying to get rid of Moaning Myrtle. Or in that case, Peeping Myrtle."

"He just came in?" Hermione asked. "You mean you hadn't asked him to come, had you?"

"No, how could I?"

"With an owl, for instance. Then why was he there?" Hermione looked suspicious.

"He's a prefect," Harry said, "it's their bathroom."

"In the middle of the night? Just by chance? I don't think so. How strange."

"You wanna hear this or not?"

"I do," said Ron, and after a funny look from Harry added hastily: "Just not the details, okay."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "please continue, and I'd _love_ to hear the details."

That actually made Harry blush, with an extremely foolish grin on his face. "Well," he said, "in short: It was better than Quidditch. The long version though... I think it is a bit too private for the classroom, even with all the pillows flying around. But I'll tell you all you want to know after classes, okay?"

"Brilliant!" said Ron, before he could help it.

"I'm so happy for you!" said Hermione, and gave Harry a quick hug. "It sounds like you two are a perfect match."

Harry just grinned.

Some hours later the three of them were sitting outside, far on the other side of the lake from Hogwarts. It was evening, and Harry had finally finished telling everything about his previous night. Well, everything up to a point. He felt that some details didn't belong to anybody but him and Cedric. Even with the edited version, Harry had been constantly interrupted by incredulous comments by Ron, or surprisingly girlish giggles and "Awww, how cute!" declarations from Hermione, who wanted to know quite a bit more about everything than Ron was able to take. Every now and then, when the story got too embarrassing, cute or sappy for Ron to bear, he sprung up and stomped around a bit somewhere in the vicinity.

"So," Harry asked finally, "what do you reckon would be the best way to tell Sirius?"

"You can't possibly tell Sirius about this," Hermione said decisively.

"I want to!" said Harry, "I _know_ he'll understand."

"Probably, but you can't risk it."

"Why not?"

"Listen, first I have to know something private."

"The stuff I told you isn't exactly meant to be public, you know. Shoot."

"Cedric didn't actually do, you know, the actual F thing with you, did he?" Hermione asked, blushing furiously but looking determined.

"No," Harry said, a bit shocked. "We did... the other things. Why?"

"Because he shouldn't, that's why," Hermione said, but to Harry that didn't really explain anything. "And that's also why you must not tell Sirius _anything_ about Cedric," Hermione went on, "not yet."

"Now you lost me completely," Harry confessed.

"You know what Age of Consent means, do you?"

"No," said Harry.

"But you are going to tell us, right?" asked Ron.

"I am," Hermione confirmed. "It is the age at which people are considered responsible enough to decide for themselves if they want to have sex with someone. Basically it means that if you are under the Age of Consent, and your partner is older, it is treated pretty much as a rape. Cedric could end up in an awful lot of serious trouble, if you two are caught, you know, doing the deed."

"Oh," said Harry, "Oh no!"

"You mean there is a _law_ about that?" asked Ron, dumbfounded.

"Yes there is. And Harry is lucky to be a wizard. Because, you see, the muggles have a higher Age of Consent than us. As a matter of fact, they have set the limit even higher for boys doing it with each other. For wizards and witches, it's all the same. I checked it in the Library."

"Like we didn't see that one coming," muttered Ron.

"And what is the age?" Harry asked.

"Fifteen. So, if you two are serious about this, you will have to be able to keep it secret for more than half a year. And when I say secret, I really mean secret. Unfortunately, the Age of Consent is only the top of the iceberg."

"Do I really want to hear the rest of it?" Harry said, while it was quite obvious to both Ron and Hermione that he didn't.

"I'm sorry, Harry" Hermione said, "but you do have to. Don't you get it? Being together could be really dangerous to both Cedric and you. Because You-Know-Who. If he finds out that you're in love with Cedric, he will surely try and use him to hurt you."

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Mapping Hearts

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_The human heart must be the ultimate mystery. It's the final frontier no person has ever been able to chart. Sometimes it happens that one imagines knowing all the nooks and crannies of one's heart through and through, only to see it change completely different in a single heartbeat. The rule is: you can't rule your heart. It does, what it does of its own free will. It will race, flip, ache, miss the beat and reach out for reasons the mind can't predict nor magic tame. It is as big a mystery and source of wonder to muggles and wizards alike._

_Yet even if we can't understand our hearts, it is wise to listen to them. Trying to silence one's heart can be outright dangerous. Once the barriers break, and they will, the results can be formidable. It's like a volcano: the bigger the barrier, the bigger the blast. Harry and Cedric learned this the hard way when the winter was turning to a new spring in Hogwarts. _

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 7**

**Mapping Hearts**

That night, Harry wrote two letters. The first one went to Sirius, giving a brief update without a word of the matters of his heart. Which, by and large, was bleeding. The sober warnings from Hermione had caught him completely by surprise at the height of his first love. The drop onto the sharp rocks of reality could hardly have been more drastic. When his brain regained its proverbial feet, Harry knew something had to be done. However he was longing for Cedric's embrace, he could not seek it knowing it would, sooner or later, bring about the ultimate threat of Voldemort's vengeance to Cedric. Therefore, he wrote the second letter. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to write. Every word seemed wrong somehow, every sentence either too sappy or casual to the point of heartlessness. After several drafts, all of which he burned, this is what Harry wrote:

_"Hello, O Naughty One! _

_I hope I don't have to tell you this, but I'll tell you anyway: the other night was the best one of my life. Better than Quidditch, no competition. _

_However, I can't keep seeing you, not that way. We would be found out. There is a magical item on the loose that can reveal us, no matter how well we plan our meetings. I can't be any plainer in the letter, but trust me on this one. And as you must know, I'm not only underaged, unlike you, but too young in the eyes of the law as well. If we are found out, you'll be in trouble. I can't risk that. _

_Just in case this ends up in wrong hands, I won't sign this. You know who I am. Even someone as hot as you couldn't possibly have two such encounters in the same week. And just in case you are that naughty, I'm the one you gave a lovebite under the left arm._

_We can, however, meet in the daytime. That shouldn't be too evident. But it has to be somewhere innocent, where we could meet by accident. Drop me a line, if we don't happen to actually meet by chance. Use a school owl."_

Harry knew the letter wasn't enough, but he thought it was a pretty good start in making the whole affair seem like just sex on his part. If Cedric thought this was only a fling, it might be easier to make him forget Harry and move on before it was too late. Harry also knew that he would never forget Cedric, even if it turned out to be just a one night stand among others for him. At least that way Cedric would be safe from the seemingly contagious danger that Harry was spreading to his loved ones. His parents were dead and Sirius was still hiding after spending years in Azkaban. Harry couldn't take it if Cedric would be the next one. He felt sick.

When Harry was coming out of the owlery after sending the letters, he turned away from the door and found himself face to face with Cedric. The other boy seized the opportunity of the deserted place, took Harry in his arms without a word and kissed him like a man dying of thirst. Harry's hard-won resolutions of not letting his feelings ruin the future of the boy he'd fallen in love with shattered like so much of glass filigree. He couldn't help answering to the passion in Cedric's kiss. In fact, his knees went weak. For someone like Harry, who'd had to get used to standing on his own two feet, it was both a wonderful and scary feeling. He suddenly remembered his first time on a broom, flying.

"Oh, Harry," Cedric panted after a sweet minute or two, holding Harry's face between his hands. "I want you so bad. I couldn't wait any longer."

"I can feel that," Harry said with a sly smile. He'd been getting hard, too. He was so intoxicated by Cedric, by his sweet smell and strong hands, that his own fears and Hermione's warnings had lost their edge and almost slipped from his mind. "But we can't possibly do anything about it here."

"I know," Cedric said, between playfully chewing Harry's lower lip. "Let's find a better place, then."

"We could get into trouble."

"Hasn't stopped you before, has it?"

"No, but now it's different," Harry said. "_You_ could get into trouble. I'm too young."

"You weren't last night. You're quite a big boy, Harry, where it counts."

Harry blushed. "I was. Too young, I mean. I just didn't know it. I don't _feel_ too young, but Hermione told me about the Age of Consent," Harry explained. "You could get into serious trouble if we are found out."

"You're just half a year from fifteen. And if we're careful, no one will be the wiser."

"Mad-Eye will be."

"No he won't," Cedric said. "Even his eye can't possibly see everything."

"No, but he now has other means," Harry insisted. "I had to give him a map of the school last night. He saved me from getting caught by Filch and Snape, and he wanted it."

"I see that you had a busy night." Cedric replied, "So what, a map is just a map."

"Not this one, it ain't. You can't really understand if you haven't seen it. It's called Marauder's Map and was made by my father and his friends. It shows every person moving about in Hogwarts. As long as Moody has the map, he can catch us any time he chooses. I was just sending you a letter of warning."

"I'm still not too concerned," Cedric said. "Mad-Eye is a friend of Dumbledore. And he's only after dark wizards. Why should he care even if we made out through every single night?"

"I don't know," admitted Harry. "I just don't want any trouble for you."

"Harry, listen to me. I've been in trouble from the very moment you first looked at me." Now his tone was serious and he looked straight into Harry's eyes. "If you think this is just a bit of sex for me, you're wrong. I'm serious about you. _I've fallen for you,_ Harry, and can't help it no matter how much trouble I get into."

Harry was almost torn apart right then and there. A part of him was glowing with happiness and trying to float at least a foot or two from the ground. The other part turned into a leaden lump of fear, which tried to sink him to the ground below his feet. When he looked into Cedric's intensely silver eyes, the strength of the emotion he saw both attracted and scared him. A beatific smile was spreading on Harry's face, but at the same time tears welled up in his eyes. He took a deep ragged breath and swallowed, twice. Then he saw someone moving in the distance behind Cedric.

"Someone's coming," Harry said, breaking free of Cedric's arms. After a heartbeat of looking at Cedric, he bolted. He didn't have the foggiest inkling of what he might have said, had he stayed. It was easier to run. Cedric didn't follow.

If someone had been able to sneak into his office, a room laden with various strange contraptions such as foeglasses and sneakoscopes, the intruder would have seen professor Alastor Moody staring down at the Marauder's Map, which was laid open on his desk.

Since the meeting with Harry the previous night, Moody had spent all of his free moments studying the myriad names moving on the map. The map was clearly a work of a genius. Mad-Eye found himself wondering idly who had made such a practically intrusive tool. It was spelled so that the more one concentrated on a place on the map, the more details could be seen, even if the names would on a normal piece of parchment be too tiny to read without a strong magnifying glass. One could see all the various floors of the huge building, and at same time read the almost microscopic names moving about in any of the hundreds rooms, staircases, cupboards, shortcuts, corridors and other spaces of Hogwarts. And there was more. After studying the map a while Moody realised he only had to name a group or a person silently in his mind, and they would start flashing on the map. It was child's play to locate anyone.

Mad-Eye concentrated on Harry Potter, and found him from the owlery. Another name was scurrying there through the map.

"How intriguing," Mad-Eye muttered to himself, "Cedric Diggory, again. You were on the move last night also. Didn't have time to get to bed before I got the map, now, did you? So what's cooking between you two?"

Suddenly he jumped out of his chair like a much younger man, opened the fifth lock of his trunk and rummaged trough the corresponding compartment. After tossing other things out of the way, he took out a telescopic spyglass. He rushed to his only window, opened it and reached as far to the left as he could to be able to see the owlery. He lifted the spyglass to his magical eye, and gave a long, surprised whistle.

Harry kept walking around long after he got tired of running. He didn't want to see anybody. Instead he got out his Firebolt and spent a couple of hours just flying. It felt liberating, but only because he flew so dangerously he needed all of his concentration to stay on his broom. After he stopped, he realised it hadn't really helped at all. He still felt shattered, and the pieces of him were at war with each other. At least no one was up and about any more when he finally went through the Gryffindor common room and sneaked into his four-poster bed. Both his heart and his body were exhausted, and he went out like a candle.

And found himself in a dimly lit corridor of an old house. There was a rustling sound, and a huge snake slithered past him. It stopped for a moment, raised its head and looked straight at Harry with its cold, evil eyes. It went into the room at the end of the corridor, creaking the door open a bit. There was some parseltongue, but it was too silent for Harry to make any sense of. He could see a part of an old armchair, and then a hissing voice spoke out.

"Turn my chair, Wormtail, so I can greet our guests."

The door opened and the armchair was turned to face it. The lighting was dim, so Harry couldn't see clearly, but the creature in the chair was small, hairless and hideous. It was holding a wand. There was a suprised breath behind Harry, and for the first time he realised he wasn't alone. He turned his head to see. Next to his side, only half a step behind was Cedric. He took Harry's hand.

"Young lovers, I see," half-formed Lord Voldemort hissed, "How touching. But I only invited you, Harry. I have no use for the other. Although, he is very handsome..."

"Don't –" Cedric started, but was interrupted by a green flame.

_"Avada Kedavra!" _Voldemort hissed. He didn't even raise his voice.

Harry screamed. His scar felt like a burning iron. The other boys all woke up, and Ron was next to his bed in an instant.

"What's wrong? You okay? Is it the scar?" he lowered his voice in the end so the others wouldn't hear. He looked worried.

"Hurts," Harry replied through clenched teeth, "I saw Voldemort... And his snake... Just a nightmare." Slowly he started to relax, even if the hurting scar brought tears to his eyes. "I'll be all right."

"You sure?" Ron asked. "Shouldn't we get you to Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, really," Harry resisted. He didn't want to go anywhere. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, mate. Just wake me up, if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Ron."

After Ron had gone back to sleep and lights were out again, Harry bit his pillow and cried his heart out, as silently as he possibly could. The pain from his burning scar took hours to subside, only letting him sleep at the crack of dawn. And when he woke up again, croggy, disoriented and late from breakfast, the pillow was still wet.

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Misbehaving

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Some people are popular because they are rich or famous. Some are popular just because they're good looking. Yet others because they are really good at something. When I first noticed Cedric Diggory, I thought he was Mr. Popularity only because he was so strikingly gorgeous. And that was as wrong of a first impression as I ever remember getting. Admittedly, I have judged others pretty badly, too, but I can't recall a worse one. When Harry first fell in love with Cedric and later tried to deny his feelings, I learned that Cedric was one of the most decent and loving people I ever met. Cedric Diggory fell into a very special class indeed: he deserved being popular because he was such a nice bloke._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 8**

**Misbehaving**

Throughout the next day Harry acted muted and glum, and Hermione started to wonder. Ron told her about Harry's nightmare with You-know-who making a special appearance, and for a while that seemed like a good enough explanation. At lunch she tried to talk to Harry and was met with the most blank and uncommunicative stare she ever remembered getting from him, and she dropped the effort. When Harry still showed no signs of coming out of his shell after dinner, she cornered him and took the dragon by the tail.

"Come on, Harry, we have tried to cheer you up the whole day," Hermione said. "It's time to share: What's eating you?"

"Nothing." Harry looked mulish. "Didn't sleep too well."

"Yeah, right. That's like saying Snape isn't the most lovable person I ever met. Doesn't even start to cover it. Spill it."

"I had another nightmare about Voldemort, all right!"

"I know that, Ron told me," Hermione said. "Still not good enough. I could understand shaken and scared, but it doesn't explain why you don't want to talk to us. It helps, you know, talking to your friends. That's exactly what friends are for. You shouldn't need a manual to understand that."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, after a very long pause that he spent staring at his feet, "I just didn't feel like talking. I've been wondering about the next task, and that's gotten to me, too. I have no idea how to breath under water for an hour." With an enormous effort, he managed to grin sheepishly. "Care to help me out?"

Now it was time for Hermione to get anxious. How could she have forgotten about the task? True, the thing with Cedric was quite a distraction, but still. The Tournament was potentially deadly, so Harry's affair with Cedric simply had to take the back seat. However, there was still a nagging feeling in her mind that Harry was hiding something.

"You sure that's all?" she asked.

"All?" Harry said incredulously. "Yes, that's all. I only have to turn myself into a fish with no knowledge of human Transfiguration. Why, that should be a piece of cake!"

At that, Hermione felt a real pang of guilt. And for her, being both the dutiful person and the good friend that she was, the effect was more like getting hit with a brick. She spent a moment recalibrating her priorities. "Of course I'll help you out." she replied then. "No need to get sarcastic. I'm sorry I questioned you, but, you know, you only had to _ask_ instead of moping a whole Saturday first. Is it off to the library, then?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," Harry said, not enthusiastically. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for." Her brain started to work on the problem at hand, and when they turned to go, she added: "Actually, I think a dolphin might be easier for you to change into. Because it's a mammal too, with lungs and similar bones and all the same basic plumbing that we have. Nowhere near as radical of a Transfiguration is needed."

The following days Harry was very depressed, but tried to hide it the best he could. He felt bad about not being straight with Ron and Hermione, and equally bad about not being gay with Cedric. To be able to keep up the charade, Harry had to keep telling himself that all this abstinence was to keep Cedric alive. The nightmare had been so realistic, it was impossible for Harry to ignore it. And it was out of the question to tell Ron and Hermione about it, because he knew they wouldn't agree with his conclusions. Before the dream, the course of his actions had rested on a knife's edge; whether to deny his love because of the fear or to defy his fear for the sake of love. Now there was no competition. Harry would do what he considered the honourable thing and sacrifice his happiness to keep Cedric alive. That, he thought, wasn't even close to what his parents had sacrificed to keep Harry himself alive. He thought the situation had a dark sort of poetic justice in it, some kind of symmetry that seemed almost like fate. But mostly he just shut the whole thing, feelings and all, out of his mind and buried himself into finding a way to breath in the lake. Or tried to, at least.

Next Wednesday, Harry got a letter the usual way, delivered by a post owl next to his breakfast plate. He saw immediately that the handwriting was unfamiliar, so it couldn't be from Sirius. He risked a look at the Hufflepuff table, and was immediately caught by Cedric's meaningful stare, which made Harry's heart jump to his throat. He had, since the meeting at the owlery door, done his best to avoid Cedric, and succeeded. Now that he knew who the letter was from, he put it in his pocket unopened, but not unnoticed. Hermione and Mad-Eye were both watching his every move.

Harry, being immersed in his own misery, had no idea how closely he was being watched that morning. At the break before Charms Hermione took a chance to talk to him.

"What did he write?" she asked.

"What?" Harry was playing dumb. "Who?"

"Cedric of course, what did he write to you?"

"You haven't lost your edge, I see. But I can't tell you."

"Oh," Hermione replied, "if it's that good, why don't you look happy?"

"I can't tell because I don't know."

"Come on!" Hermione protested, "There must have been something in there."

"I haven't opened it," Harry told her, flatly.

"Open it, then."

"No."

"You're being childish, Harry," Hermione said. "It won't go away if you keep ignoring it."

"I could burn it," Harry proposed without a trace of humour.

"Are you mad?" Hermione asked. "For a while you actually had me fooled with the whole breathing thing, but no more. You're not really trying to find the solution, not in earnest. You haven't put your heart to it, not once since we started. Don't worry, I'll still help you, of course, but that is not why you're in shambles. Something is wrong with Cedric."

"And what exactly makes it your problem?" Harry sounded almost hostile now, which was rare to the extreme.

"Harry, please stop that. How many times this year I have to remind you that I'm your friend? I care about you being happy, and you're not. Open it."

"No. This is not your problem." Harry was at the end of his rope, with nowhere to go with his argument. Luckily for him, the break was about to end and he saw a familiar figure approaching. "We have to go, Flitwick is coming."

And that was all she got out of him on the matter.

Late that night, alone in his bed, Harry couldn't resist any more. He took out the parchment and opened it. A part of him was actually hoping that it would be a piss-off-you-insufferable-brat kind of letter, ending their brief but dramatic affair once and for all. Instead, what he read made his heart ache and his conscience raw and heavy with guilt.

_Okay, I'm sorry that I scared you off. I understand if you want to go slowly with this. We can postpone certain things until your birthday, if you want to avoid getting me into a mess. But, if you want to avoid me becoming a mess, instead, you've got to talk to me. I can't stand getting the cold shoulder, not from you. We don't have to do anything risky, but at Ieast I want to be around you. We could practise Quidditch or I could teach you some bits of magic you won't learn in classes, or we could just sit and play chess or something. The thing is that I love you, but we don't really know each other. And I want that, too. Please talk to me._

_Kisses_

When Harry finally managed to fall asleep, he kept dreaming of Cedric. At first there were happy dreams about his incredible smile and silvery eyes, but then, very early the next morning, he woke up covered in cold sweat. It was the nightmare all over again, the one where Voldemort murdered Cedric in the chillingly offhand manner just for wanting to protect him. Harry barely managed to stifle a scream. For the most of the morning, Harry lay awake with a burning scar once more, too agitated to sleep. Only in the last half an hour before having to get up, he drifted off into exhausted and troubled stupor.

"Harry, wake up." Ron was shaking him.

"Umm, what? Please, no. Not yet. Let me sleep."

"You were having a nightmare, mate. Wake up."

Harry opened his eyes and saw Ron looking at him with an odd expression.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"You were talking in your sleep," Ron answered, "something about You-know-who. And about Cedric. You repeated his name and then, 'please, no'. It sounded like you didn't want him to do something. And you were crying, too. What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "Like you said, just a nightmare."

"Nothing my ass. What's wrong with Cedric?"

"Oh no," Harry said, irritated. "Not you too."

"Hermione is right, you know," Ron persuaded him. "We can see something is wrong. You should let us help."

"You can't help me on this one."

"Try us."

"No, I won't. This isn't your problem."

"Have it your way, then," Ron said, angrily. "You're lucky the other's went to breakfast already. Your thing with Cedric will soon be a common knowledge, if you keep dreaming as loudly as you just did. Might be better, for all I know." And with that, Ron stomped out of the room.

Hermione was very interested in and extremely worried about Ron's latest piece of news.

"He seems like a nice guy and all, but we don't really know Cedric," she said. "Are you sure Harry said, 'Please, no.' and his name."

"Positive. He kept repeating them both. And he cried. And before all that he said Vol– You-know-who's name once or twice."

"Okay. That, as far as I can see, has two possible explanations. Either his dream was about You-know-who doing something bad to Cedric, or he was dreaming about Cedric doing something that he shouldn't..."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ron asked, gloomily.

"I think so." Hermione was very serious now. "Two or three years is quite a difference at our age. Cedric might have got carried away. It would explain why Harry doesn't want to talk about the whole thing anymore. I mean, if he got, you know, molested by Cedric."

"I'm gonna _kill_ him if he did that to Harry." Ron said hotly.

"Cool your heals, Ron. We have to give the fellow the benefit of a doubt. And you know how stubborn Harry can be. We won't get anything out of him. I say we go and ask Cedric. We can probably tell if he tries to lie to us. And if he's innocent, he can help us get Harry back on track."

"Sounds like a plan. But if he did it, though..." Ron muttered, "If he did..."

"Cedric," Hermione asked the same day after lunch, when they foud Cedric with some other Hufflepuffs outside the castle, "could we have a word with you?"

"Okay, sure." He told his friends to go ahead, and Hermione led them to a quiet corner of the courtyard. "What's up?"

"It's about Harry..."

There was immediately a worried, keen expression on Cedric's face. "He's all right, I hope, isn't he?"

"No, he isn't," Ron said flatly in an unfriendly tone. "And we want to know why."

"What happened? Is he hurt?" Cedric was frantic now. "Where? Take me to him, please. I need to see him!"

"He's all right physically," Hermione said. "As far as we know, nothing bad has happened. But he's acting weird, and we are interested in what we _don't_ _know_. We need to find out what's wrong with him. And we think you have something to do with it."

"But he doesn't even look at me, let alone talk to me. How could I know?" This came out in a decidedly miserable tone.

"And why is that?" Ron asked.

"I think I scared him away," Cedric replied. "I presume you two know about... Harry and me, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "We do. But what did you mean when you said you scared him? What did you do?"

"Nothing. We were talking and..." Cedric blushed slightly, but looked straight at them, one at a time. "All right, we were kissing, and really getting into it. But then Harry got all worked up about how we could get into trouble. Then he saw someone coming, and run away. He hasn't talked to me since."

"And when was this?" Hermione asked.

"Last friday. Almost a week ago."

"This doesn't help any," Ron blurted. "Did you, or did you not, molest Harry in any way?"

"What!" Cedric was beside himself, and really had to restrain his voice not to shout for the whole school to hear. "How can you even think that? No, of course I didn't. I would never ever do anything to harm Harry. Never. Don't you get it. _I love him._"

Hermione looked relieved beyond measure. She was smiling now, for the first time during the conversation. "Merlin's Beard!" she exclaimed then. "Did you by any chance happen to tell that to Harry?" she asked.

"Yes!" Cedric said, still upset. "Pretty much. That was right before he bolted."

"Ron, he is all right," Hermione said gravely. "He didn't do anything wrong. I think this may all be my fault. And Cedric, don't worry. I know for a fact that Harry loves you too."

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Confrontations

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_In love, as in war, everything is allowed, and confrontations are if not necessary, at least unavoidable. There are all kinds of maneuvers, negotiations, ultimatums and other tactical moves that often involve not only the interested parties, but their allies and foes alike. In hindsight, one might ask if it had been both easier and more beneficial for the ones in love just to confess everything to each other and be done with it. This comes to mind every time when I think about all the twists and turns of the tale at hand. Harry had to go through quite a range of experiences before he was ready to open up and tell Cedric how he really felt, why he was acting the way he did and what made him tick. That is, after all, the essence of love; to share your innermost self with someone, and blindly hope to be accepted._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 9**

**Confrontations**

It was the explanation time. The three of them, Cedric, Ron and Hermione, wandered to a secluded part of the lakeshore so they could talk without keeping a constant lookout for passers-by.

"Ron, you remember when I said to Harry that those two," Hermione was nodding towards Cedric, "should keep a tight lid over the affair for two reasons? The first one was the Age of Consent."

"That was the one Harry gave me," Cedric said, "when he was worried about us getting caught."

"I thought he might. But there was an even more important one," Hermione continued. "How much do you know about Harry's history in Hogwarts?"

"Not much, above and beyond what's common knowledge."

"Okay. Both on his first and second year he came face to face with You-Know-Who, who is aiming for a comeback," Hermione explained. "And, as you might expect, he hates Harry more than anyone else. We can tell you all about it later, but for now just take my word for it."

"Okay, makes sense to me," Cedric admitted. "There have been all kinds of rumors."

"Right. And I warned Harry that if You-Know-Who learns of Harry having someone he loves, he will surely try and use the person to get to Harry."

"Okay. I'm willing to take the risk," Cedric said solemnly. "Harry is worth it."

Hermione smiled at him, and Ron was starting to look happier, too.

"I was hoping you would say that," Hermione said. "But that's not all. After you last spoke to Harry, he's been having nightmares. Ron?"

"First time he woke up everyone by screaming. He said he had seen You-Know-Who and his snake. And his scar was hurting pretty badly, I think."

"Hurting?" Cedric asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "It does that sometimes. Dumbledore says there is still some kind of connection between Harry's scar and You-Know-Who. I agree."

"Oh good, I'd hate to tell old Albus he was wrong..." Cedric was smirking at her now.

"I didn't..." Hermione stammered, blushing "didn't mean I would know as much about it or anything..." She was looking sheepish, which was a rare event indeed. Ron gave a bark of laughter and got an evil glance from Hermione for his effort.

"I know, you're a smart girl," Cedric said. "It just sounded a bit funny after mentioning a minor authority like Dumbledore first."

"Anyway," Ron continued, "this morning after the others had gone to breakfast, Harry was crying and talking in his sleep. He said You-know-who's name, and then your name several times. And he kept repeating 'please, no' many times. It sounded like..." Ron was looking down. "It sounded like you–"

"Like I was doing something unpleasant to Harry." Cedric finished. "I see. I guess I had become suspicious, too."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "It's just that we don't really know you, and Harry is our best friend."

"I understand," Cedric assured, "Don't worry about it. I hope you'll get to know me, though. But I still don't get all of it. Why is Harry shutting me out if he's in love with me?"

"What you have to grasp about Harry..." Hermione said.

"...is that he has a hero complex," Ron said. He had finally caught up with Hermione's track of thought.

"Exactly," Hermione said. "He loves you, but he's afraid of what You-Know-Who might do to you. I bet that's what he's having nightmares about."

"Oh!" Cedric said. "Now I get it. The heroic little sod thinks he is protecting me by getting me out of his life."

"He may be right," Hermione reminded him. "It would be safer for you not to get involved."

"I don't care. I'm not the underage here. Why didn't he _ask_ me?"

"He must think highly of you," Hermione guessed. "He knew you wouldn't care. But he does, so he tried. The problem is that he loves you, so he's all bent out of shape and miserable about it."

"He's not the only one," Cedric said. "Now, how obstinate is he?"

"Very," Hermione said. Ron nodded.

"We'd better have a good plan of attack, then." Cedric said, and they started to brainstorm.

Meanwhile, in an empty classroom back inside Hogwarts, there was another conversation going on about Harry, one in which he was involved himself. He had met Cho while wandering aimlessly around and wondering where Ron and Hermione had gone to. Cho had unceremoniously pushed him into the closest room, and started yelling at him.

"What an earth happened to you?" she was asking at the moment. "You seemed such a nice person, and then you pull a stunt like this! Do you have any idea what this is doing to Cedric?"

"But I didn't do anything..." Harry tried weakly.

"You sure didn't. You didn't talk to him nor hug him nor give him any explanation. You just dumped him like a sack of garbage!" Cho shouted, and Harry was seriously alarmed. "I can't _believe_ I was worried about Cedric breaking _your_ heart!"

"This is not so easy for me eith–"

There was a loud whacking noise and suddenly Harry's head was thrown sideways as his cheek gained a red mark. It hurt. He had mostly been staring at his feet, so he never saw it coming. Cho's Quidditch-trained hand delivered a perfectly aimed slap in his face, hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Now listen to me, you self-centered, heartless brat!" Cho ranted. "If you really are stupid enough to turn down Cedric, the least you can do is to meet him face to face, explain to him why, and apologise."

"But..."

"No buts, Harry. I said I might help you in the smacking business if Cedric breaks your heart. And you I barely know. Cedric is my best friend. Did you really think I wouldn't do the same for him, and more?"

"No," Harry said miserably, "not really. I wasn't really thinking…"

"Right. And believe me, this wasn't anything compared to what I'll do to you if you don't treat him nice. If it won't work for you two, that's okay. But this is no way to treat someone who loves you. You are breaking his heart on purpose, you know you are. So you'd better talk to him, or I will smack you off your broom so hard you'll never want to fly again. See if I don't."

And with that, Cho stormed out, leaving Harry stunned and feeling guilty. But also somehow relieved. He felt like he'd been having a bad dream, or being sick, and was now startled awake by the blow. Cho was right, it was time to face the music.

But when Harry was about to leave the classroom himself, there was a gruff coughing sound, and a figure with a limp emerged from behind a huge cupboard near the corner of the room.

"Sorry, lad," Mad-Eye said, his magical eye spinning wildly. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop on you."

"Then why did you?" asked Harry, so startled and angry that he overcame his timidness of the slightly mad professor Moody.

"I didn't want to embarrass the lass, who was so keen on spilling your secrets. She was in full swing before I could make my presence known. But don't you worry," he added, "I'm fully capable of keeping secrets. I am, after all, an auror."

"But this was a private conversation," Harry said, affronted, "and none of your business."

"I know, and I apologise once more," Moody said. "But if that was a conversation, her arguments were pretty strong. Left quite a mark on your cheek, she did..."

"I think I deserved that, actually," Harry confessed, feeling a bit better.

"You might be right. Now, if you let me advice you on this confidential matter, you should exercise utmost secrecy. If, as I am to understand, you really are in love with Cedric Diggory, keep it a secret. Don't reveal it to anybody at all, if you can help it. You are no ordinary boy, and there are people who would use this to hurt you, or Cedric, or both."

"But..." Harry started, blushing.

"By all means talk to him, and keep snogging him, if that is what you want," Moody actually winked at this point, and it wasn't pretty. "You don't have to worry about getting in trouble, as far as I'm concerned. I am old enough to know there is nothing at all you can do to change your heart. It loves and hates as it pleases. Just make sure nobody else has a reason to suspect, okay? And tell Cedric and his friend there the same."

"Okay," Harry said, "Thanks."

"Nothing to thank me for, really," Mad-Eye concluded. "And now I have some urgent business to attend to. On your way, Potter."

Harry went, confused but relieved. A professor had found them out, and the sky had not fallen. Even more, his love for Cedric had been accepted by Moody, who was the very person Harry had most feared would discover their affair. The secret seemed to be in safe and friendly hands.

"All right, I think we have our plan," Hermione said. "Now, Cedric, can you tell us where Harry might be found?"

"Me?" Cedric asked, wide-eyed with surprise. "How should I now? He doesn't even talk to me."

"Umm, are you sure you're being honest with us? I have a feeling you have done some quite creative spellwork lately, concerning Harry."

"Oh my. You _are_ a smart girl," Cedric said after a moment of stunned silence. "No wonder you are breaking all my test score records for the decade."

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked. "Why doesn't anybody ever tell me what's going on?"

"Weren't you curious about the unlikely event of Cedric turning up in the prefect's bathroom just when Harry was there? Same thing with the owlery. Hogwarts is a _big_ place. I think he put some kind of homing spell on Harry. So that he could get more chances to meet him."

"Troll's eye. That is exactly what I did," Cedric confessed. "I was actually quite proud of myself after figuring out a way to do it. It's not something they teach in the classes."

"Well, it is an intrusion of one's privacy, after all."

"Nothing compared to Marauder's Map, if Harry's description was anything like accurate. So don't even try to look disapproving, Hermione," Cedric admonished. "You would do the same, were you in love."

Hermione looked furtive. "So, where to?" she asked.

Cedric's tracking method was quite a clever one, even Hermione had to admit that. It involved a plain looking notebook with a hair from Harry's head that Cedric had found on his robe after Harry had crashed into him what seemed like ages ago, and a quill. When Cedric wrote the question "Whatever happened to Harry?" in any page of his book, the book answered by writing Harry's current location, like "Harry is in Gryffindor common room" or "Harry is 120 yards to the west sitting on a stone wall". And when he overlined his original question, both the question and the answer disappeared. One of the clever aspects was that Cedric could use the book as an ordinary notebook, too, so it didn't look like a magical object at all.

This time, the book told them Harry was to be found from the top of the Astronomy Tower, so that was where the trio headed. Some preparations later, Ron and Hermione bobbed their heads above the top floor level, climbing the stairs.

"There you are, Harry!" they said in unison, "we've been looking for you everywhere."

"Oh that's what you've been up to. I was trying to find you, too," Harry replied. "Then I came here to think."

"Oh. What about?" asked Ron.

"Cedric. And me. Have you seen him, by any chance?"

"No," said Ron.

"Just in passing," said Hermione. "Why?"

But before Harry had a chance to answer, Cedric himself ran up the stairs, waving at them. He stopped a couple of steps before the top.

"Hi Harry," he said. "I've been trying to find you. I followed your friends."

"What is going on here?" Harry asked, obviously suspicious. "A national Find yourself a Harry contest?"

"No. This is important. Please don't run away this time. Okay?" Cedric was staring intently at Harry. So intently, it seemed, that he missed a step. His foot slipped from a stair and he fell face down on the stairs, hit the stone with a loud, sickening thud, rolled over and slid back down, moaning.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted, sprung up and run to the stairs. Ron and Hermione were standing still, gaping.

"Oh no!" Harry wailed. Cedric was lying next to the staircase wall, a big bruise on his forehead. Blood was trickling down his face. Harry rushed to him, went down on his knees and very, very tenderly cupped Cedric's face in his hands. Cedric's eyes were closed, and remained so.

"Oh, please be all right, please." Harry talked frantically, with tears falling on Cedric's face. "Can you hear me? Can you move? Please be all right. I love you, Cedric. Don't you dare to die on me. I'm sorry I tried to push you away. I didn't really want to, but I thought it was better for you. I'm sorry. Please come back. I love you so much." And then he bent down and carefully kissed the other boy on the lips.

"That felt nice." Cedric said suddenly, after Harry had pulled away. "Could you maybe say that once again?" He opened his eyes and looked straight at Harry, with all the power and beauty that his silvery eyes could muster.

"What?" blurted Harry. "Bloody boggarts, you scared me!"

"Not that." Cedric said, smiling. "The bit you said earlier. Something about love."

"I love you," Harry said. "You know I do."

"Now I do. But you had to tell me that, don't you see?" Cedric explained. "I can't get to know you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm sorry. I really am," Harry said. "From now on I'll tell you _everything,"_ he promised. "But are you badly hurt? Can you move?"

"I'm not hurt at all," Cedric replied. Suddenly the bruise faded and the blood disappeared. "I'm sorry if I scared you, but I just _had to_ somehow get through to you. You're one stubborn piece of work, you know. I thought the letter would work, but no. You had to play it tough." Cedric grinned mischievously. "It was a dirty trick, though," he admitted, "sorry about that."

The relief was flooding into Harry, a joy so powerful he couldn't really get angry. He suddenly realised that he must be the happiest boy alive. Cedric was all right and loved him. And he was free to love back if he wanted to, and Voldemort be damned. He smiled at Cedric, bent down again and kissed him once more. Cedric wrapped his arms around Harry's slender frame and pulled him into a comfortable embrace. They got lost in each other's eyes, kissing and murmuring sweet silly nonsense at each other in between the kisses. Soon they had completely forgotten that the rest of the world existed at all.

"Okay," Ron said, "we'd better go and stand guard. I can't watch any more of this. Let's go, Hermione... Hey, come on... Hermione!"

Her eyes remained glued to the embracing boys until Ron managed to drag her out of sight. Her eyes were brimming with tears. A happy sigh escaped her lips.

"Wasn't that the sweetest thing _ever?"_ she asked.

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. The Gillyweed

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Some say that newly formed couples are the most self-centered people of all. They don't want to see their friends, and only have time for each other. That may be true to some extent about anyone who's just fallen in love, but I was very happy to find out that particular malady didn't have much effect on Harry. Some might say it was just because he simply couldn't spend much time with Cedric without blowing their cover. Others that it was because he needed all the help he could get with the second task of the Tri-wizard tournament. In any case, Harry continued to keep his friends close and tell us about his escapades with Cedric. Needless to say, I loved that. Ron was still to come to his senses about his feelings towards me, and Harry's stories helped quench some of my thirst for romance. By the way, I am, as ever, convinced that the reason why Harry didn't abandon us is simply that he genuinely likes his friends. He has never been much of a pretender._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 10**

**The Gillyweed**

The next couple of weeks before the second task of the tournament must have been the happiest time Harry had ever known. He went to classes, ate, studied – just like any other time in Hogwarts. But when nobody was looking, or at least when Harry _thought_ nobody was looking, he was also dating the most gorgeous and charming bloke he'd ever met. They couldn't be together as much as they'd have liked, but still, an hour a day, a half an hour, a conversation, even just a moment a day with Cedric made this the most magical of springs for Harry. He took advantage of his Invisibility Cloak almost nightly, sneaking to secret encounters with Cedric. They spent a lot of time kissing, and doing things that were even better. But, unexpectedly, the best of all was just to sit with Cedric hand in hand or in the safe nest of his lap, and talk.

They exchanged the stories of their lives. Harry told Cedric everything that he remembered of his lonely childhood with the abominable Dursleys, his closet under the stairs, the hundreds of owls and Hagrid coming for him, and the glory and wonder of coming to Hogwarts for the first time. Cedric told markedly different stories about his childhood by the river, his parents and their devotion to him, and about friends and sunny days. But as happy as his life had been, it still had its share of clouds, too. His father was overly proud of him in front of others, but very demanding. No matter how well he did, his father never seemed quite satisfied. And Cedric's future had been planned out for him by his parents without ever asking what Cedric wanted for himself. Sometimes it seemed to Harry that Cedric was living in a golden cage. He was well loved at home, but still a prisoner of his parents expectations.

In other times, when he couldn't be with Cedric, Harry was trying to find a way to breathe underwater. He still hadn't found any, and the time was running out. On the Sunday just three days before the second task, the couple had sneaked through the secret tunnel that started under the Whomping Willow and ended in the Shrieking Shack. The idea was to have some hours just for themselves. But Harry was feeling a rising anxiety about the task, and couldn't really stay relaxed. When Cedric asked if he had ants in his robes, Harry finally overcame his pride and asked Cedric for help.

"What!" Cedric exclaimed. "Why didn't you ask me before? I had no idea you hadn't gotten it all figured out. You're cutting it awfully thin, you know."

Harry looked sheepish. "I know. But can you think of anything?"

"Well, yes and no. I'm going to use bubblehead charm myself. But it's quite complicated, took me two and a half weeks to master. I don't think I can teach it to you in just three days. Also, you'd need to practise in water, and we can't arrange much time together in the prefect's bathroom."

"Oh..." Harry looked mortified, and his anxiety about the tournament turned into a real panic. Why had he been so stupid? He could have asked Cedric's help right after they had made up. Harry kicked himself mentally, and not just once. Then he realised Cedric was speaking again.

"Sorry, what did you say?" he asked. "I was just calling myself all sorts of names."

"With a good reason, too. Anyway, excluding the bubblehead charm, there are two ways of doing this that I can think of," Cedric repeated. "One could change into a dolphin or something, but you can't do human transfiguration yet, can you?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Okay. That takes even longer to learn than the bubblehead charm. But there is a third way. I remember reading about a grass or a weed or something, that can do the trick. And no practise involved. You just have to get it somewhere."

"A grass?" Harry asked, grasping at the straw like a drowning boy he was afraid of becoming.

"Some sort of a magical plant, anyway. It's supposed to make you a sort of half fish, so you can breathe underwater. I read about it in some Herbology book. I can't think of either the name of the book nor the plant right now, though. But the book was definitely from the library, and not even from the restricted section."

"Sounds great," Harry said, letting out a sigh of relief.

"But Harry, promise me something, okay?"

"What?"

"If you can't find a way to do it, please don't take part at all. It could be really dangerous, and I can't stand the idea of losing you." Cedric looked at him, gray eyes full of concern.

"I can't promise you that. You were there when this whole thing started. Don't you remember? The stupid goblet spitting my name is supposed to be a binding magical contract. I _have_ to do this, whether I want to or not."

"Bloody hell, I _had_ forgotten that. Sorry."

"No big deal. And don't you worry, I have no intention of dying for a mere competition. I love you way too much."

Cedric's serious face melted to a heartbreaking smile. He cupped Harry's face in his hands and kissed his lips with utmost tenderness. "I love you too, wonderboy," he replied huskily. The second kiss turned into a heated french affair. After a while Cedric came up for air. He looked determined.

"Let's go find the book, then. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Wait," Harry said, and kissed him once more. Getting to know of the way to do the task had unwound him considerably, and it's amazing what a little snogging can do to ease worries. Harry was quite relaxed now, except one part of him that the making out was making quite rigid. "Speaking about hard, maybe we should stay here a while longer, after all. There's plenty of time for the library, and I bet you are too hard to be allowed in public, too." To get Cedric altogether out of the serious mood, he tickled him on the sides, which to Harry's continuing delight were quite sensitive. Cedric burst into convulsive giggles.

"I'll show you hard, whelp!" Cedric threatened when he was able to, launching a tickling attack of his own.

"I was... sort of hoping... you would..." Harry replied, getting frequently interrupted by uncontrollable laughter. All and all, it took the boys quite a while before they managed to leave for the library.

Of course, the book was not there. They searched every shelf of the Herbology section, trying to look like they weren't together at all, especially if other students happened to be nearby. Nothing. Cedric even asked Madam Pince, which was, as usual, a futile attempt. Instead of being an invaluable aid, like a good librarian is, she was a stickler with petty rules, and so distrusting of the students, she never volunteered any useful information. When they were leaving, defeated, Cedric suddenly had a moment of inspiration. He returned to Madam Pince.

"Look, I just remembered the name of the book," he told Madam Pince. "It is _Magical Plants of the Mediterranean _or something like that. I've been trying to find it for ages. Are you sure someone is not keeping it longer than allowed?"

"Impossible!" Madam Pince exclaimed, looking extremely affronted. "I always know if that happens. Do you really think I'd leave the books unprotected in the grimy hands of you rascals? I've put spells on them! And the correct title is Magical_ Water _Plants of the Mediterranean, boy."

"Then you must know who has the book, don't you?" Cedric asked.

"Of course I do! But it's none of your business. Professors can keep books however long they like."

"Thank you, Madam Pince. That helps enormously. I just hope I'll find it before I have bothered _all the professors..." _And he gave her his very best smile, which he knew capable of charming even the most severe of old ladies. But this time it was a close call. Madam Pince kept looking at him suspiciously for quite a while, trying to decide if she was more flattered by the smile or scandalized by the audacity of the words. Just when Cedric felt his smile starting to freeze, she finally replied.

"All right, Mr. Diggory," Madam Pince relented. "After all, you have always returned your books in pristine condition. Professor Moody has it, if you really must know."

"I'm very much obliged." And Cedric took her hand and gave it a little kiss, bowing like a courtier. Very few people can pull that off without looking ridiculous, but Cedric was definitely one of them. Under Harry's incredulous eyes Madam Pince got faint roses blossoming on her wrinkled cheeks and did the unthinkable: rewarded Cedric with a fraction of a smile.

"Go on, then," she said. "You too, Mr. Potter. I'm going to close the Library for today. And Mr. Diggory, tell Professor Moody to return the book, it's six months overdue."

"I will, Madam Pince," Cedric promised. "Thank you."

"It was amazing!" Harry exclaimed, when he was telling the story to Ron and Hermione late that night in the Gryffindor common room. "I never imagined Madam Pince even _capable_ of being friendly and helpful to anyone. But then again, Cedric _is _quite irresistible."

"Speak for yourself, mate," Ron said grinning.

Harry looked fittingly embarrassed, but decided to defend his point. "Well, he is. Hermione, support me on this."

"What? Of course he is," she said matter-of-factly. "I would take him any day of the week, if he wasn't, you know, out of bounds."

"You would?" Ron asked, looking positively alarmed.

"Sure, he's such a doll," Hermione said casually. "But back to more important business; I must confess it never really crossed my mind to look for a plant. And there is another thing that is curious too, don't you think?"

"What?" Ron asked, still ruffled.

"Alastor Moody, once again. He saved Harry from Snape but confiscated the Marauder's Map. He spied on Harry's little scene with Cho. And now this."

"He didn't confiscate the map," Harry protested. "He asked politely if he could have it. And he's been helping me, too. He practically told me to use the Firebolt in the first task."

"I know," Hermione said. "But still, he's popping up suspiciously often."

"You suspected Cedric because of that, too," Ron said.

"And I was right, wasn't I?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "He just didn't happen to meet Harry by chance. He had set a homing spell on him."

"All right. I'll keep my eyes open and try to get the map back, okay?" Harry promised. "But first I still have to get the book somehow."

"No problem, it's practically done," Hermione said cryptically, causing both boys to stare at him, mystified. "Hey, Neville!"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Could you let me borrow me the book you got from Moody?" she asked politely.

"MagicalWaterPlants of the Mediterranean?"

"That's the one. Would you be a gent and bring it here?"

"Sure," Neville said. "Hold on a minute."

"Hermione, you're a bloody genius!" Ron exclaimed. "How did you know that?"

"All I did was look at the cover back when Mad-Eye lent it to Neville. Come on, it is a book. Of course I wanted to know what it was about. Who wouldn't?" But despite trying to look at least a bit modest, Hermione was lifting her chin proudly and looking extremely pleased with herself. Soon Neville was back, and now he sat with them and offered the book to Hermione.

"So... what are you looking for exactly?" Neville asked.

"There is supposed to be a grass or something that makes it possible to breath under water," Harry explained. "I need it for the second task."

"Gillyweed," Neville said at once. "It's not a grass, though. It's a seaweed, a sort of large algae. It gives you temporary gills and makes your hands and feet webbed, like fins, so you can swim faster, too."

Harry and Ron goggled at him, flabbergasted, but Hermione just smiled sweetly and offered the book back. "Could you show us, please?"

Once Neville had (very quickly) found the correct page, they all read the passage through carefully. By the time Ron finished, Hermione had read it twice already.

"It says here gillyweed is used in various potions," she pondered. "Snape must have it in his cupboards."

"I wouldn't like to steal from his stores," Harry said. "It's too risky. If I got caught, he'd make sure I'd be disqualified from the tournament."

"There's an easier way," Neville said. "Haven't you ever explored Professor Sprout's glasshouses?" he sounded astonished. "You should. They are wonderful. There are huge amounts of strange, exotic and beautiful plants there. In the round glasshouse she has water plants, including gillyweed."

"I think we're going to see the place very soon," Harry said, starting to smile widely. "Neville, you're a treasure. Could I persuade you to come with us, show us the sights and make sure we get the correct weed?"

"I... I wouldn't miss it f... for the world. Thank you, Harry." Neville stammered, flustered because of the praise he was unaccustomed to.

"No, I'm the one who should be thanking," Harry said. "You just saved my neck."

The next day, they robbed the glass house. Well, in a very small scale, since they only took enough gillyweed to fill a small jar. The excursion was very unusual, as their adventures went, since it could be done in clear daylight with minimal risk of getting into trouble. The only really forbidden part was the quickly accomplished deed of cutting some gillyweed and stuffing it into the jar. All the seriously dangerous plants were in a different glasshouse, which was pretty much impenetrable for the students, and the other ones were, if not really open for business, not out of bounds either. They were just very seldom visited, except during Herbology classes.

Also, for once, Neville was the one in charge. His knowledge about various plants was astonishing, and his enthusiasm for them made him act much more self-assured and relaxed than his usual self. All and all, it wasn't a bad way to spend a couple of hours. Once Harry and Hermione saw how much the visit meant for Neville, they didn't have the heart to leave any sooner. Ron, true to form, grumbled a bit, but tagged along anyway. And Harry would have sacrificed quite a bit more than a little time to get where he now was: properly prepared for the looming task. It was a very reassuring feeling.

The next morning brought an owl from Cedric, arranging a meeting for that very night. Again, it was unsigned and wouldn't have given anything away to an outsider.

_Meet me tonight at eleven on the corridor where we crashed for the first time. Wear your cloak. _

_Love._

A tad after the designated time Harry skidded to a halt on the familiar corner. At first glance Cedric was nowhere to be seen. Then Harry heard some noise and when he turned to look, the face of his boyfriend appeared from behind a column a dozen yards away.

"Hello?" Cedric asked, whispering. Harry let the invisibility cloak fall and rushed into his arms. He felt it had been_ way_ too long since their last meeting on Sunday. And if his hungry kiss was anything to go by, Cedric felt exactly the same. After some literally breathtaking moments Cedric gave Harry a smile that reminded him of the smiles he got when they were still at the early tentative glances stage of their relationship. It was beautiful, but etched with sadness or worry.

"Put your cloak back on," Cedric said. "I have found a better place for us."

"What about you? Are you okay? The cloak should be big enough for both."

"I'm fine, and a prefect. We do have a bit more slack. Besides, if someone sees me alone, it's a lot less trouble than if we were both caught. Also, we have some climbing to do, and it would be too hard if we weren't able to move independently. Come on."

Cedric led him a few corridors further, and then stopped in front of a strange looking statue depicting three gargoyles. He faced the statue, his face solemn, and voiced:

"Oh ye beasts of noble fright,

Let us pass to the place of height,

Under moon and stars to see their light."

There was a low melodious sound, like a distant bell. Behind the statue the wall disappeared. Harry wasn't quite sure how it happened, but in an instant there was a staircase instead. A new secret of Hogwarts had just revealed itself to him. He took the cloak off again, and after looking at Cedric who was smiling at his amazement, went in. Cedric followed, and somehow the wall remade itself after them. The staircase became pitch-black.

"Lumos." Cedric said, and his wand started to glow.

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Heights And Depths

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_What if you were to lose the person you love more than anyone else in the whole world? Think about it. If you don't, it might happen that you realise only too late how much you loved that someone. Feelings are such funny things. If everything is fine and you don't pay attention, you might not even realise they exist. The feelings grow slowly and silently, they cling tightly to the heart and grow twisted and entangled. And suddenly you notice they have conquered your whole heart like a vine overcomes a house, and you can't even think about life without them. That's how infatuation and passion turn into deeper, truer love. Stealthily, if at all. _

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 11**

**Heights and Depths**

The darkness of the staircase gave way to the light of Cedric's wand. The stairs were spiralling up and up above them, and they followed. It was a bare and rather claustrophobic space, in places not even wide enough to allow them to climb side by side. After several minutes, Harry couldn't contain his curiosity.

"Where exactly are we going?", he asked.

"Our new secret love nest, where else would you think I'd be bothered to take you in the middle of the night?" Cedric teased, with laughter in his voice. "It's not much longer," he added then. "I'd rather not spoil the surprise."

"Okay," Harry said, and went on climbing. A bit after his feet had started to protest, the staircase ended on the edge of a round room, with beautiful ornate columns supporting a deep blue cupola above. In between each of the columns there were double doors made mostly of colourful stained glass. They all led to a balcony a few yards wide, surrounding the whole room.

When Harry looked up, he noticed that in the dome there were thousands of stars, apparently painted with gold. Each had a name tag beside it, and all the constellations were connected with silver lines. The ecliptic and the other important planes of the celestial sphere were all represented, too.

"Wow," Harry breathed. "What a beautiful place."

"Let's go to the loft," Cedric said. "It's even better from there." He started for the spiral staircase in the middle of the room, made of gracefully decorated wrought iron, black as the night. It led to a narrow circular walkway between the top of the stairs and a huge round divan or sofa surrounding it in all directions, with plenty of silk cushions everywhere.

"And I thought you were just kidding! If this isn't a love nest, I don't know what is," Harry said. "It's a tad on the grand side, though; looks like it was made for full-blown orgies!"

"What a dirty imagination you have," Cedric said, feigning dignity. "That's not what it was built for at all. This is the Old Observatory."

"How come I have never even heard about this? And how can it be an observatory, when all the windows are down there?"

"You haven't heard about this, because it was lost somewhere in the eighteenth century, according to..."

"Don't tell me," Harry interrupted. "I know. It must have been 'Hogwarts: A History'."

"Spot on. But if you haven't read it," Cedric asked, "how did you know?"

"Hermione keeps babbling about it and demanding us to read it, me and Ron. She's been at it for four years, and no end in sight."

"She's right, you know. It's a very interesting book. Anyway, since this one was lost, they started to call this Old Observatory or Lost Observatory, and built a new top onto what was left of the Astronomy Tower."

"But how could they lose this?" Harry asked. "It's a building! And how come it's still here, if it was lost?"

"Okay, to answer that, we have to go to the balcony. Come on." Cedric went down the stairs and opened a set of doors. When they reached the balustrade, Harry gasped. They were very high up in the mountains, and Hogwarts was nowhere to be seen. The stairs had been long, sure, but nothing compared to the height of a mountain.

"But..." Harry started.

"...where is the school?" Cedric continued. "We're on the wrong side. Follow me." They walked around the balcony. On the other side there was a breathtaking vista opening to a valley between the mountains. The air was clear as crystal and somewhere so far down it made his head spin, Harry could see Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry glimmering like a jewel in the night. It was a viewpoint of an eagle, and the school looked like a tiny but perfect toy model of itself. Harry was speechless, and could only stare in wonder.

"Someone actually stole this from the top of the Astronomy Tower, overnight, and never told anybody," Cedric told Harry. "Or at least it never became public knowledge what had happened to the Observatory. The prime suspect was and still is Samuel Stargazer. He was the headmaster at the time, and really keen on astronomy. He made several official complaints about the clouds disturbing his observations, before he was made the headmaster himself. And apparently he was quite an eccentric person to boot; the kind that actually might do a thing like stealing an observatory."

"And how did you find the way here?" Harry wanted to know.

"I was _really_ interested in the story," Cedric said, "and did a lot of research and a bit of spying. After I had found enough clues in musty old documents in the archive section of the library to be sure the observatory still existed, and to pinpoint the entrance to the gargoyle statue, I arranged an alarm system. After several months of lookout I finally saw Dumbledore entering the place. That's how I got to know the password poem."

"Nice," Harry said appreciatively. "This is a wonderful place. But let's go back in, it's freezing out here."

"I can warm you up..." Cedric suggested with a grin.

"Did I see some nice warm blankets up there in the orgy loft?" Harry asked.

"You might have. At least there are some." The boys climbed back up and made a comfortable nest for themselves with the pillows and a couple of blankets. Harry snuggled under Cedric's arm and sighed happily. They were gazing at the roof; there was something funny about it, but Harry couldn't really put a finger on it. Then he noticed something.

"Hey, is that star moving?"

"Look closer... It's not a star; it's the planet Venus, the evening star and the goddess of love. It's rising."

"But..." Harry looked around, and realised that everything that he had supposed were painted on the dome seemed to move with his head, like they were infinitely far, and not attached to the ceiling at all.

"Remember, this _is_ an observatory. And not just any observatory. It is one of the Nine Wonders of the Wizarding World," Cedric said. "Sadly, I don't know its secrets. But I have figured out a couple of tricks the dome can do. First of all, it always shows everything in their correct position, no matter where in the hall you are. And secondly," Cedric clapped his hands twice, sharply. The dome disappeared, leaving only the markings overlaid on the real sky. Everything matched perfectly. There was the crescent moon rising over the mountains, and its path drawn with a precise silver arc on the sky. Same with the planets. All the stars had their names hanging beside them, and constellations were still connected with glimmering lines. All and all, it was an astronomer's dream come true.

"Wow!" Harry said again, and they both fell silent for a long while, just studying the incredible sky. Finally Harry nudged his boyfriend. "Thank you for showing me this," he said. "It's beautiful. Almost as good as you."

"I love you, Harry Potter," Cedric said seriously. "And I'm afraid of tomorrow. I don't want to lose you. I wanted to bring you here before the task. You know, just in case."

"I love you, too, and we're going to be fine." Harry said. "Don't be so pessimistic. It can't possibly be worse than the dragons."

"You don't know that. Promise me you're going to be careful."

"I promise, silly. I'll be as careful as I possibly can."

"No you won't. I know you that well already, wonderboy," Cedric said, but smiled. "I've seen how you play Quidditch. You're reckless. But maybe that's just why I love you so much."

"You're no wimp yourself. Now shut up, and make love to me, okay?"

Cedric shut up, and did. Their love that night was marked with urgency and passion borne out of uncertainty of what the following day might bring. The moon and stars were tracking the pass of time above their entangled bodies, unheeded, and it was very nearly morning before the lovers finally left for their respective beds back in Hogwarts.

Later that morning, Harry overslept. Ron wasn't there to wake him up, and he was badly in the need of sleep. He was dreaming of flying with Cedric, and suddenly his broom started to jolt and buckle in the dream, shaking him. Harry woke up.

Dobby was staring at his face from the distance of only a couple of inches. He was shaking Harry by the shoulder.

"Harry Potter must wake up!" Dobby shouted, agitated. "Harry Potter is late, he must not sleep. They have taken his Wheezy and Harry Potter must get him back."

"What?" Harry croaked, his throat dry.

"Your Wheezy, sir. Harry Potter must wake up. Harry Potter must run. Second task is in ten minutes. Harry Potter must not be late."

When the reality of the words penetrated Harry's foggy mind, his sleepiness evaporated in an instant. He grabbed his clothes, got dressed as quickly as he possibly could, stuffed the jar of gillyweed in his pocket, and ran.

"Good luck, Harry Potter, sir! Good luck!" Dobby shouted after him.

Harry made it, but it was as close as it gets. Before he could worry about it, though, he was standing knee-deep in extremely cold water, reluctantly eating gillyweed. The crowd was laughing at him, since he didn't show any signs of doing magic. Harry slowly waded deeper, trembling, until the water reached his mid-thigh. While looking around, he noticed Fred and George grinning and waving at him with some other Gryffindors. It cheered him up, and he continued munching the gillyweed. It looked somewhat like greyish rat-tails and was both slimy and chewy. But to Harry's relief, it worked. Breathing air suddenly became hard and the water, instead of cold, started to feel refreshing. Harry dived, his mouth open, and his newly formed gills started to filter oxygen from the water straight into his blood-stream. His toes and fingers elongated and became webbed, propelling him fast in his new element. Harry had become aquatic.

Quite a while later, the Weasley twins were still sitting on a bench amongst all of the other students, except for the four champions. Unlike before, they had unusually dull expressions on their identical faces.

"A real spectator sport, this one, eh?" said Fred, leaning on his hands.

"I can't believe they actually dropped Quidditch for this. I mean, the dragons were all right..." said George.

"The dragons were brilliant!"

"That they were. But this is stupid."

"Moronic. We've been here what, almost an hour."

"Fiftyfive minutes or so, I reckon..." said George.

"...after this thing actually started, and at least half an hour before that. And we've seen what?" asked Fred.

"Two bubbleheads, one half-arse transfiguration..."

"...and a pair of gills, just barely."

"And then they all dived."

"And that's it, folks. Show's over. All we've seen after that..."

"...is the damn water."

"Stupid age line. We could have been _in there,_ instead of cooling our arses here."

"The water's even colder."

"Yeah, you're right. It's bloody freezing, I tried."

"That's a consolation, at least."

"I'm so much happier now."

"Yeah, but bored."

"So bored... I think I'm gonna fall asleep."

"Don't blame you. This is idiotic."

"Good night, George."

"Night, Fred."

In the meantime, at the bottom of the lake, Harry was in trouble. While the audience up on the shore had been waiting, Harry had been busy. He had fought off a couple of grindylows, found the hostages and freed Ron. But the merpeople hadn't allowed him to free the other hostages. The three sleeping beauties, Cho, Hermione and a girl that could be no other than Fleur Delacour's sister had remained in their ropes until the other champions had started to arrive. The strange environment and somewhat menacing band of merpeople had made up Harry's mind; he had decided to wait and make sure that all the hostages were freed before returning to the surface.

The first one to arrive had been Cedric, with a huge bubble around his head. It had distorted his features a bit, but Harry had still been able to see the encouraging smile Cedric had offered him. They hadn't been able to speak. Cedric had waved his hands and pointed upwards and Harry had somehow tried to explain that everything was fine, and he'd be coming soon. Cedric had obviously wanted Harry to ascend with him. Harry had shaken his head vigorously. For a demonstration, he had shown Cedric how fast he could swim with his webbed feet. Finally Cedric had given up, shaken his head with something that looked like a rueful smile, and started to tow Cho up to the surface.

The next visitor had been Viktor Krum, half-transformed into a shark. He had been fast and efficient in freeing his hostage and leaving. Just when he had disappeared into the watery distance with Hermione, Fleur had arrived, looking uncharacteristically messy. She had had several cuts on her feet and hands and she had been able to swim using one hand only; it was quite obvious she had had rough time with grindylows. She had also had an air-bubble around her head. Harry had helped her to release her sister, and they had started their trip up to the surface together. After leaving the mervillage behind, Harry had taken both sleepers in tow, because Fleur had been unbearably slow. Both her injuries and the burden of her little sister were taking their toll.

Then they had seen a huge mass of seaweed floating above their heads. It had looked menacing, and for a good reason. It turned out to be a sort of floating fortress; the seaweed acted as a mother ship for a horde of grindylows.

So, at the time when the Weasley twins were dying of boredom, Harry was fighting for his life, and for the lives of Ron and a little girl he didn't even know. The very first attack had forced Fleur and Harry to separate. When Harry realised he had to somehow both fight and save the hostages, he did the only possible thing: tactical retreat. He towed Ron and little Miss Delacour away from the grindylows as fast as he possibly could. Then, having reached a spot with clear waters above, Harry put the Banishing Charm into good use and sent Fleur's sister and Ron zooming up towards the surface, one after the other. Then he turned back towards the horde of grindylows approaching him at an alarming rate. But now Harry's hands were free, and he could fully concentrate on staying alive and helping Fleur, who was facing the other half of the greedy water demons, hell-bent on tasting some fresh human.

At the same time elsewhere, the audience had witnessed first Cedric and later Krum returning safely with their loved ones (or in Cedric's case, best friend).

"What a spectacle!" said Fred sarcastically.

"Yeah, they've gotten dames from the waves. Hurrah!" replied George.

"Too bad we missed all the good bits..."

"I'm not so sure anymore," said George. "The wet clothes did cling to the said dames quite interestingly..."

"Hear, hear!" said Fred.

After he had dried himself with a spell, Cedric went to look for Neville. He had, of course, heard from Harry about Neville's expertise on Herbology and involvement in the gillyweed business. And now he was worried, again, and for a good reason. He found Neville sitting with Ginny and other Gryffindors nearby.

"You're Neville Longbottom, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes..." Neville replied, sounding quite befuddled and a bit nervous.

"Can I have a word, please?"

"Yes, of course," Neville replied and followed Cedric a bit further from the other Gryffindors. "What is it?" he then asked, even more nervously.

"About Harry and his gillyweed. How long does the effect last?" Cedric asked, cutting straight into the heart of the matter. "He's been under over an hour already. What happens if the gillyweed stops working while he's still at the bottom of the lake?"

Neville paled a little, but he had an answer ready. "It might wear off any minute now, but he has some extra with him in a jar. He can eat that and get back up safely," Neville said. "I hope," he then added, with a slightly trembling voice.

"Me too," Cedric agreed. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Neville replied. "But how did you know to ask me about the gillyweed?"

"Harry told me." Cedric said, regarding the plump boy. "He thinks highly of you, you know."

"I..." Neville started, looking bashful, but he never managed to finish. There was a commotion spreading through the crowd, and Cedric bolted in the middle of Neville's sentence. Something was happening on the lake, and he needed a better view. He ran back to the champion's box, which was on a high platform reaching over the water, and thus commanded a perfect view over the water. The judges as well as Cho, Krum and Hermione were staring at the lake and pointing.

Harry had managed to reach Fleur. They were now back to back, defending against the grindylows coming from all directions except up. That was lucky, because it allowed them to swim slowly upwards while fighting. With Fleur's injuries it would have been too risky to try a fast escape. The water demons were devilishly fast, and the champions were exhausted already. But it wasn't as dark as before, they were obviously not very deep any more. Suddenly Harry started to feel short of breath. The effect of the gillyweed was fading, fast. He took the jar out of his pocket, but couldn't open it with just one hand.

Harry stopped his defensive spell work for a moment to open the jar, and one brave-hearted grindylow instantly made a mad dash at him, sinking its sharp teeth into Harry's hand. With horrible sluggishness the jar slipped from Harry's grip, flipped first one way, then the other, and sunk all the time. Harry desperately tried to catch it, but the trashing grindylow tearing at his hand was making his movements erratic. Harry only managed to touch the jar with his fingertips, twice, and then it was beyond his reach, glimmering tantalizingly as it sunk.

There was only one thought in Harry's head. "Air!" He stunned the water demon and managed to get rid of it. Then he looked at Fleur who stared at him, terrified, she had obviously noticed that Harry didn't have the gills anymore. She pointed to the surface and Harry started to swim upwards as fast as he could. Fleur followed, but so did the remaining grindylows. After just a couple of meters Harry felt the first creatures gripping his feet. He was out of air already, and the surface seemed hopelessly far, even if it was less than ten meters away.

The excitement in the audience was caused by the two remaining hostages, who had suddenly popped up to the surface. They instantly woke up, looked around and started to swim ashore. But there was no sign of either Harry or Fleur. When Cedric saw that, he felt a terrible foreboding. He didn't stop to decide what would be the wisest thing to do. Instead, he ran to the railing of the platform and threw himself over. Someone shrieked. In fact, quite a few someones. But only a moment later the shouts of terror were replaced by a collective sigh of admiration.

The hostages were some way off from the shore, and Cedric didn't want to waste any time on swimming. Instead, in the middle of his fall, he transfigured himself into a beautiful white seagull. He spread his wings and soared high above the place where the hostages had first come up. He could see movement down below the surface, and not very deep either, maybe ten meters or so. Cedric the seagull adjusted his wings and plunged into an exhilarating vertical dive.

He did what many seabirds do when they come by a nice school of fish swimming near the surface. He dived very fast with the wings close to his body and pierced the water like an arrow. What usually surprises the fish, had a similar effect on grindylows. When Cedric suddenly dove amongst the water demons like a blindingly white, hissing thunderbolt, they scattered. What was left was Fleur looking rather pale, and Harry looking rather blue and glass-eyed. Cedric transfigured himself back into his human form, swam to Harry, and pressed his lips firmly to Harry's mouth. Then he exhaled a lungful of sweet, fresh air into Harry's mouth. Once he saw Harry's eyes looking at him, awake once more, he broke the kiss carefully and started to tow Harry up to the surface, hastily. After all, he had just shared all the air he had. The grindylows had had enough of the excitement and disappeared into the depths. After what seemed like a much longer and slower rise than it actually was, the two boys broke the surface of the lake. Harry's hands were wrapped around Cedric like he never wanted to let go again.

A few seconds later, Fleur joined them, and the audience went wild. If nothing else, at least they knew that the second task, probably the most boring task to watch in the whole history of Tri-Wizard tournament, was finally over.

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. A Dog's Tale

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Snuffles, or, as he was more widely known (and groundlessly feared), Sirius Black, was a tragic hero, who looked like a notorious villain. He was still good-looking after years in Azkaban, but not the beautiful young man he had been in happier times. Instead, Sirius had the dark, hollow-cheeked and dangerous air of someone who had lost too much to care about his personal safety. He looked reckless, which was perfectly true, and violent, which was not. How much he had lost to Voldemort, we never knew, until the carefully spun webs of secrecy were torn apart on both sides one morning on a mountainside above Hogsmeade. Truth, it seems, wants to get out, if given a chance._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 12**

**A Dog's Tale**

During the next days there were two main strands of contradicting gossip fighting each other out among the students of Hogwarts. One was centered around the sensational french kiss Fleur had inflicted upon unsuspecting Harry right after they both had been fixed by madame Pomfrey. Those rumours explored the possibilities of underwater sex and seduction, and, as we all know, were groundless. But there was a substantial amount of students with an archetypal British view, that a kiss involving a tongue or two couldn't possibly be a simple show of gratitude. The French outlook, spiced with some veela ancestry, was of course different. Fleur said it best herself: "'Arry is 'ery cute when 'e is embarrassed." For her, it was a reason good enough. Besides, she was right. Harry was extremely adorable in a flamingly flustered way, when Cedric teased him about the kiss.

The other rumour was based on the more subtle but telling signals some of the more observant students had seen passing between Harry and Cedric, who of course was in the limelight, being the evident hero of the second task. Harry's underwater heroics were mostly being ignored, since the audience hadn't seen any of it. But they had seen Harry's arms wound around Cedric when the two of them surfaced and Cedric towed Harry to the shore. And for those inclined to think along those lines, it was not very hard to see the love and attraction between the two after the idea had taken hold, however carefully Harry and Cedric imagined hiding their passion. This second batch of rumours was of course much more dangerous and even more scandalous than the French connection theory, and in general hit uncomfortably close to the truth, even if the real details of their affair were not known.

The rumours became so well established that Cedric and Harry decided to cease meeting each other for a while to cut the wings of the gossip. They managed to stay true to their decision for some days. By the next Hogsmeade visit, however, they were already frustrated about not having been able to meet, and they simply had to do something about it, despite all the rumours.

That particular Hogsmeade Saturday was shaping up to a busy day indeed, because Harry, Ron and Hermione also had an appointment with Sirius. The plan was first to meet and feed poor starving Sirius, and later Harry was to sneak into the Shrieking Shack for a tryst with Cedric.

At first everything went as planned. They met the joyfully jumping but shaggy and thin Padfoot outside Hogsmeade, and he led them to a cave up in the foothills of the mountains, where he was staying. Then he turned into an equally disheveled, hollow-cheeked Sirius Black. Harry, Ron and Hermione took out their offerings acquired from the house-elf-run kitchen of Hogwarts. Before any civilized pleasantries, Sirius attacked the food like he hadn't eaten for at least a fortnight. Only after he had devoured half a chicken, a whole cheese and a quarter of a large loaf of bread, he finally looked up from the food, greeted them properly and smiled.

"So... How are you Harry?" Sirius asked.

"I'm... " Harry grinned, "I'm smashing, actually. Got through the second task!"

"So I see. Good for you!" Sirius slapped him playfully in the back, but then grew serious again. "I'm sorry for being a such spoilsport, Harry, but you shouldn't forget there is someone out there who tries to hurt you during the tournament."

"You don't know that!" Harry declared. "There's been no attacks, nothing for the whole year. Quite the contrary, in fact. Professor Moody has helped me a lot, and Bagman keeps offering help, too."

"Harry, listen to me! Whoever managed to fool the goblet, is both a clever wizard and wishes you harm. He deliberately put you in a very dangerous position. There's a reason why there's been no tournament for ages, and that's the severe death toll among the champions."

"I know that!" Harry said. "But it has turned out fine. I never wanted to take part, but it has been the best thing ever to happen to me!"

When the words tumbled out of Harry's mouth, he wanted to bite his tongue. And for a good reason, too. Hermione was glaring at him, exasperated. Sirius, on the other hand, looked shrewdly at all three of them; glowering Hermione, Ron who was looking amused, and Harry, who couldn't help a warm blush creeping up his neck. Why, oh why had he chosen such an obvious a phrase, and why did he have to have the tendency to blush so easily, Harry thought feverishly. It didn't help a bit.

"Best thing that ever happened to you?" Sirius repeated slowly. "How come?"

"I..." Harry started, but found out he hadn't got anything to go on with. "I... like the... tasks," he managed finally, looking anything but convincing. "It's fun. And I like winning."

"Bollocks. You shouldn't try lying to me, Harry, you're no good at it. Not even close to your father's standard. The tournament can't possibly be better that Quidditch, and you were on top of your game... No, I can think of only one thing better than Quidditch..." Sirius paused, and fixed a measuring gaze at Harry, who was now blushing furiously. "And I bet you found out what it is, didn't you, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry said, looking down at his feet.

"So," Sirius asked brightly. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"It's none of your business!" Harry said, flaring up suddenly.

"Aw, come on, Harry. This is great, we should celebrate! You can tell me, whoever it is. I'm your godfather, remember. And I'll find it out anyway, sooner or later."

"You wouldn't understand." Harry said, looking bad-tempered. He glowered at Sirius, and then turned back to his shoes. Despite wanting to tell Sirius about Cedric earlier, Harry now realised that coming out of the closet would be a lot harder than he'd expected. Especially to the few people he loved, like Sirius.

"Try me." Sirius was now looking quite different. His face was somehow softer, and his eyes looked compassionate. "I know what it is like, believe me. I've been young too, and in love. You can tell me anything."

"No. I'm sorry. I can't." But in spite of his words, the unexpected tenderness of his godfather's voice had gotten to Harry. He felt his anger melt, and his lips trembled. But he still refused to meet Sirius's gaze. He knew his mind and heart could be seen through his eyes, and he didn't want Sirius to see them. He wouldn't understand, and this was private.

Sirius wouldn't have that, though. He took Harry by the shoulder with one hand, and raised his chin gently with the other, until Harry was looking at him again. "Harry, are you maybe refusing to tell me because it is not a girl you have fallen in love with, but another boy?" He spoke quietly, but the words seemed to fall into the silence with the gravity of mighty boulders. The secret encasing Harry shattered. For a moment, he felt naked and unprotected. Then he realised it was freedom he was feeling. Suddenly he could breathe again. A slow smile spread on his face.

"Yes," he said, looking at Sirius with his smile widening. "How did you know?"

"I told you already. I've been young, too, and in love. And like you, I fell in love with another boy. Before, I did't think it proper to tell you I'm gay just yet. You're still so young. Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Not in the least." Harry's smile had widened into a grin. "You know what it's… like, then? Being gay."

"I do," Sirius said, smiling. "So, please, tell me about it. Who's the lucky bloke?"

"His name is Cedric," Harry said, blushing again.

"And he's a strapping young man, this Cedric, is he?" Sirius asked.

"Like you couldn't imagine," Hermione said, beaming at Sirius and causing Ron to look grumpy. Harry and Sirius looked at them mildly surprised. They had almost forgotten there were other people around.

"Hey, when it comes to lads, I can imagine quite a bit more than you are even allowed to for at least a couple of years." Sirius said with an evil grin. Hermione blushed and Harry laughed. Ron looked a bit uncomfortable.

"So," Sirius said, "he is the other Hogwarts champion, isn't he?"

"Yes. Cedric Diggory. And yours?"

"Mine what?" Sirius asked.

"Who was your boyfriend at school? And what happened to him?"

"That's ancient history," Sirius said, his face darkening. "We were talking about you."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Harry was grinning now.

"Harry, I'm shocked!" Sirius said mockingly. "But I think we should celebrate! Did you cheeky bastards happen to bring any butterbeer?"

"Loads," Ron said, looking happier. "They're in my bag."

"Pass them around, then. We're wasting good drinking time!"

"Sirius..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"I want to know. I'll tell you everything if and only if you do the same. It's only fair, you know."

"I know, Harry. I should be glad to have someone interested in me. All right, let's have some butterbeer, make a campfire and swap stories," Sirius relented. "But mind you, mine are not that cheerful."

"Lupin!"

"Yep. Dear Old Moony. I fell head over heels for him that day. How could I not. He was a beautiful boy, and so brave with his 'furry little problem'. I'd have done anything for him, so I persuaded James and that stinky little rat, as Peter turned out to be, to become animagi. To help Remus out, or at least to keep him company."

"So..." Hermione asked, "how come you are not together anymore? Or are you?"

"No. Don't you remember?" Sirius asked, but didn't give them a chance to answer. "Remus thought, like everyone else, that it was I who had betrayed Lily and James. He loved me very much, I guess, so it hurt him badly. With the deception Wormtail pulled off, he practically dug out Remus's heart and gutted it. Of the Marauders Lupin was always the soft and empathic one, and he just couldn't deal with it. Dumbledore told me it took Remus several years to piece himself back together, to recover from what he thought was my despicable betrayal of everything we stood for. And he reconstructed himself by denying me altogether. I think he had no choice."

"But..." said Harry.

"He knows now you didn't do it," said Ron.

"He does, but still... His heart was broken in a way nobody's heart should be, and because of me. I've tried to reach out to him, but the damage runs deep. I'm afraid he'll never trust anyone enough to dare love again." Sirius's voice was even, but there were tears gleaming in his eyes.

"But... _you_ still love him." Harry whispered, awestruck.

"I never stopped. I knew all the time he hadn't done anything wrong."

There was a long, heavy silence after Sirius's words.

"But..." Harry asked finally, "how can you stand it?"

"I can't, most of the time," Sirius confessed. "I used to be a cheerful chap, you know. Nothing like my gloomy self nowadays." Contrary to his words, however, Sirius had gotten hold of himself during the long pause, and the tears had never fallen. He smiled at them, but it was a hollow kind of smile. To Harry, it looked like a mask that didn't cover Sirius's dark, desolate eyes.

However bad Sirius might have felt inside, he kept up appearances of good mood and even hilarity for the rest of their meeting. Harry hoped it was more than acting, wished that his tales of newly found love could act as a balm to Sirius's sore heart. He was happy, and wanted his godfather to be, too. But the time was running out, and he had to get going if he was to have any time at all with Cedric.

"I..." Harry said, "I think I should be off. You know, to see Ced."

"Go, then. I don't want to keep you from your lad," Sirius said. He raised his butterbeer for a toast. "Here's to your shrieking shag, then. Have a time of your life. Frankly, there's nothing quite like shagging in the Shack. Trust me, it's a nice place for that."

"Sirius!" Hermione gasped. Ron burst out laughing, and Harry turned, again, quite a ripe shade of red.

"My godfather knows."

"Sirius Black?" Cedric asked, startled. "The fugitive? Are you serious?"

"Yes, very." Harry said, looking grave and staring at Cedric without a hint of an expression. That went on for a while, until Cedric cracked.

"Well, how... how did it go?" he asked anxiously. "Are you okay? I mean... he didn't shout at you or hit you or anything… or did he?" There was a definite edge of worry in his voice.

"He came through with flying colours, I think," Harry said, trying to stop himself from breaking into a smile too soon. "After all, it can't be easy to come out of the closet at his age."

"What?"

"Hmm?"

"He isn't, is he? You're pulling my leg! You whelp!"

Harry's poker face crumbled into a huge grin. He managed just barely to lunge aside and avoid Cedric's playful attack, propelled by the older boy's sudden relief and embarrassment. After so narrowly escaping the looming tickling session, Harry decided to speak out.

"Honest to Merlin, he's gay. He told me after finding out our little secret. It was my fault, of course. I think we are being more obvious than we'd like to think, Ced."

"But... But this is fantastic! "

"I know..."

"Wow. At least we have your guardian on our side, if it ever comes to that."

"To what?"

"Well, let's say I'm not putting too much hope on my father being open-minded and cool about me liking boys. In fact, I think there will be hell to pay when he finds out."

"But he's your father."

"Exactly. I'm his pride and joy, but only when I behave the way I'm supposed to. Like a proper bloody heir to his little conservative middle-class life!"

"I'm sure he loves you, Cedric. How could he not?"

"Reckon I should tell him, then?"

"After Sirius, I'm not so sure we _can_ keep this a secret much longer. It would be better if your parents got it from you, wouldn't it? I mean, instead of some mean rumormongering slytherin trying to defame us, say Lucius Malfoy for example."

"Yeah, I guess... But I _really_ don't want to tell them."

"I know... I wouldn't have had the guts to tell Sirius, if he hadn't guessed. But that turned all right. Maybe your parents are more open-minded than you give them credit for."

"A distant possibility, that."

"I wouldn't bet on that. You don't expect much of them, so they might exceed your expectations. Anyway, we'll have to face your parents sooner or later."

"I know." Cedric started to look glum and brooding, and Harry snuggled into his lap.

"Don't worry, Ced. It'll turn out all right."

"How?"

"I don't know," Harry said cheerfully. "But I have a feeling it'll be fine, in the end."

Despite Harry's lithe body right next to him and the perfect opportunity for uninterrupted snogging it took Cedric some serious willpower to drag his mind off of the looming task of opening the proverbial closet door. He was one to brood over things, and this was prime material to agonize over. Luckily, Harry was having none of that. He assaulted their clothing with his hands and Cedric's mouth and neck with his lips. Very soon they were half naked on a pile of robes and Cedric's hormones kicked in big time. So did his hard-on. And when Harry's mouth caressed his jawline and started down the treasure trail between his pecs, all thought evaporated from Cedric's mind. For a while he was only capable of feeling the unspeakably pleasurable things Harry's mouth and hands were doing to him. He felt like he was floating on the rhythm of their moves. And when he couldn't take it any more, he came with the sweet abandon only possible with a trusted lover. His body tensed in an arc. Everything went white in his eyes and the world disappeared for the unmeasurable moment of total bliss. When the waves of rapture subsided he collapsed back on their bedding, still writhing in the aftermath. Finally he just lay there, thoroughly spent and completely relaxed, just grinning like a fool. He reached down to further tousle Harry's unruly hair.

"You wicked boy, you."

Harry just grinned back at him, obviously proud of the complement. Cedric reached down to grab his chin and pulled him up for a long, sticky kiss. That lead to other things, and it took some time before Cedric had returned the favor. In the end, they were both wearing face-splitting grins, totally exhausted and glued together by the sticky by-products of their efforts.

"Okay," Cedric said eventually, "you win. I'll write my parents a letter. It doesn't really matter how mad they'll get at me. You are so totally worth fighting for, you know. Don't you?"

Harry just beamed at him.

TO BE CONTINUED


	13. Owl Post

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_One would think, as we magical people are ourselves a pretty stark deviation from the norm, that we would be more tolerant and open to differences of race, culture and sexuality than "the great unwashed" masses of muggles. However, that doesn't seem to be the case. Maybe it's our sense of superiority that makes us witches and wizards as susceptible as any muggle to the nasty malady of bigotry. However that might be, there seems to be quite as much intolerance within the magical community as there is outside is. And that is simply too much._

_Cedric had the unfortunate privilege of being born and raised to a rather well-connected, wealthy family who valued their social status above almost anything. And because they weren't obscenely rich, but upper middle class, propriety was their weapon of choice in climbing the ladders. In that frame of reference, even Cedric's independent, curious mind was a flaw of character his parents tried their best to cultivate away. You can imagine what a shock it was to them when he came out of the closet. In their circles, being gay simply didn't happen, or at least it was never admitted. And when such an unspeakable thing did happen, the least one could do was to have the decency of not speaking about it. After all, the appearances had to be maintained._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 13**

**Owl Post**

_Mom, Dad,_

_There is something I have to tell you, and I don't want to wait until we see again. Besides, when I put it down on paper I have a much better chance of getting it right. Now, I know that you care for me, and that's why you keep planning my life. And up to a point, that's fine. The problem is, you seem to be so sure about what kind of a son I should be that I'm afraid you don't really know me at all. Here are some useful pointers:_

_Dad, I'm not interested in a career in the Ministry. At all._

_Mom, I'm sure Vilma is a nice girl, but not for me. Really. _

_And before you ask, same goes for Fiona._

_I hate it when you two parade me and my 'achievements' in front of your friends. They are strangers to me. It feels like I'm a trick pony in circus. I'd much rather be acknowledged as an erring human being than a impeccable student. I love quidditch because it makes me feel free, not because it might make me popular. I don't want to be famous. I want to be happy. And if I'm ever to be happy, I have to have the freedom to be true to myself. But somehow, every time when I relax a bit and start to tell you something meaningful, you manage to belittle my ideas and dreams. I won't have that any more. I need to make my own decisions, however foolish. _

_For some years now I have known something about myself that contradicts everything you have been planning for me. I'm gay. I like boys. One in particular. So please stop matchmaking me to every pretty witch in high society. Stop matcmaking me. Stop. I have found a boy who makes me happier than I've ever been in my life. It may not last, but I'm willing to take the risk. If you love me at all, please accept this. It would make me even happier if I could share my newly found joy with you. Because, after all I have said here, I love you both very much._

_Your son,_

_Cedric_

It was late afternoon, the 13th of March, when Cedric got his reply. The fact that the letter didn't arrive with the morning post made him quite worried, so he went into a deserted classroom to open it. His hands were trembling when he started to read. There was nobody to watch, but had there been, they would have seen all colour slowly drain from Cedric's handsome features. He stared at the parchment with a stony expression for a long time. His hands had stopped trembling. He didn't move a muscle. He didn't even appear to breathe. Finally, he inhaled so deeply it sounded almost like a sob. But there was still no emotion on his face. Slowly, his hands cramped around the letter, crumpling the parchment convulsively. A desk in front of him started to shake violently. A single word emerged from his lips, a vehement "No!" With the word came a blast. The desk exploded away from him, shattering into hundreds of splinters. The flying shards utterly destroyed a map, a stuffed vulture and a frosted glass pane of the door. Cedric startled, looked disbelievingly at the mess, stuffed the remains of the parchment in his pocket and fled the room.

It only took Mrs. Norris and Filch a scant two minutes to reach the scene of the destruction. "The bloody vandals," the caretaker muttered to his cat, "one of these days I'll hang them by their unmentionables, see if I don't... You guard the scene of crime, Mrs. Norris, and I'll get the headmaster."

Some minutes later Filch returned with both Dumbledore and professor McGonagall in tow. Dumbledore eyed the damage over his half-moon spectacles for a while, then exchanged a glance with McGonagall.

"Very well, Mr. Filch. You were quite right to show this to me. It seems rather more dangerous than a mere prank. Now, would you please leave us. We have to find out what happened, and we have to do it now. Please stand by the entrance of the corridor and make sure we are not disturbed."

"Right you are, headmaster," Filch growled. "Can I shackle them culprits in the dungeons? It's what they deserve, innit?"

"We shall see, Argus, if a culprit is to be found at all. Now leave us, please."

"'Twas was the Weasley twins," Filch mumbled as he went. "Mark my words, 'twas the twins..."

Meanwhile, badly shaken Cedric had got out his notebook to find Harry. Unfortunately, since the day was cold, Harry was in the Gryffindor common room where Cedric couldn't go. The next best option was Cho. Cedric found her in the library.

"Ced! What happened to you? You look like a ghost."

"Not here. You wanna go out?"

"It's freezing out there."

"I know. But I need some fresh air. You feel up to defying the weather."

"Sure. Let me just get my robes."

It was easy to reach a deserted part of Hogwarts grounds in the weather of the day, since nobody else wanted to be outside. Cedric soon started to unburden his heart. He told Cho how Harry had convinced him to write to his parents, but didn't say anything about Sirius, of whom she didn't know the truth. And then he told about the answering letter and the unwanted explosion.

"I have never lost my control like that, not even as a kid." Cedric explained. "You see, I really thought, after talking to Harry, that they would accept me the way I am."

"And I take it they didn't?" Cho asked.

"No. Well, the letter was obviously from my dad, even if he wrote for both of them. But I guess mom would be a bit more... understanding."

"So, what exactly did he say in the letter?"

"Here. It's easier if you read it yourself."

Cho carefully straightened the crumpled parchment and started to read. Her eyes got rounder the further she raid, and she gasped in a couple of places. When she had finished, she looked back at Cedric. Both of their eyes had tears in them.

"Oh, Ced. I'm so sorry," she said and threw her hands around the boy for a hug. It worked pretty much like cutting the strings of a marionette. Cedric collapsed, buried his head down on her shoulder and started to sob.

"You know, of course," said Dumbledore "about the basic nature of time, space and entropy."

"Naturally," said Minerva McGonagall. "But I still can't fathom how are you going to find out what happened."

"Well, I'm going to utilize the fact that time is only an illusion. Nothing is really lost or forgotten, because everything exists simultaneously in the fabric of the time-space. In essence, if I can locally bend the time-space in this room just a little bit, we can peek at the past up to fifteen minutes ago or thereabouts to see just what happened. But we must hurry, because the further we want to see, the harder it gets. And you'll have to seal the room. I should not be interrupted while doing this, or strange and possibly dangerous things might happen."

"I shall start on the protective spells right away," McGonagall promised. "But _really,_" she then huffed, taking out her wand, "I never knew one could actually transfigure _time,_ and I'm supposed to be the transfiguration teacher!"

Dumbledore just smiled slightly, took out his own wand, and sat down on the wide windowsill of one of the deep arched windows of the classroom. He closed his eyes and started to weave an intricate pattern on the air. When McGonagall had magically sealed the room against all intrusion, the complex spell was ready to be cast. Dumbledore muttered an incantation and waved his wand one last time. In the middle of the room, something happened. A tiny glowing sphere popped into existance with a faint hissing noise, pulsing and growing. It soon filled the room with an eerie blue light and still kept growing, until it had completely engulfed the whole room and some of the corridor, too. Within the glow, nothing moved, even the specks of dust had stopped midair. McGonagall and Dumbledore were both surrounded by the blue glow now that they were inside the warped time-space where they didn't really belong.

Then, slowly at first, but with increasing speed, the time started to unravel. MacGonagall and Dumbledore seemed to divide into two, and their copies started to rewind their recent actions. In a few seconds, they had comically reversed out of the room. Next Filch and Mrs. Norris made a short backwards visit and left the room, once again empty except for the two watching professors.

Then, in a blur of motion, a student came in, back first and reversed near a window. The myriad pieces of wood and metal flew together to make a desk, and the boy took out a crumpled piece of parchment, which opened itself in his hands. Dumbledore let the backward flow of time stop after the figure had reversed back out again.

"Now let's see this the right way around," Dumbledore said. And with the flick of his wand, Cedric burst in once more, now with the normal speed and direction.

"Oh my, it really is Cedric Diggory!" McGonagall exclaimed. "I thought so, but wasn't sure I could believe my eyes."

Later the same day, there was an emergency meeting behind the glass houses. After calming down, Cedric had gone to the owlery and sent a message to Harry, who took both Ron and Hermione with him. After they had met Cedric and Cho, Cedric filled the Gryffindors in on the situation.

"It seems to be a week consisting almost exclusively of hate mail," Hermione said. "I've been getting loads after the latest Skeeter 'scoop'."

"Not from your parents, though," Cedric pointed out.

"No, just from strangers," Hermione admitted. "So I don't really care. Except for the Pubotubo puss. That was nasty."

"I do care," Cedric said. "words are much more potent in the end than almost anything else."

"You're right, of course," Hermione answered, "and I don't see how you couldn't care, since it's your father writing."

"Well, at least you didn't get a howler," Ron said. "Those are bloody _awful,_ Mom sent me one in my second year."

"Must have been quite a howler, if it was worse than this," Cedric said.

"But what," Harry asked, "does the letter actually say?"

An hour or so earlier, Dumbledore had stopped the flow of replaying time once the Cedric of moments past had opened the letter. Both professors had walked behind his shoulders to take a look at the parchment. But before they had actually started to read, McGonagall had glanced sternly at the headmaster.

"I am not quite sure this is justified, Albus. After all, it's the boy's private correspondence we are to take a peek at."

"I know, Minerva. We shouldn't really be doing this. However, there is more at stake here than our clear conscience. The safety of the students may be at risk. I'm extremely worried, because for once, I don't have any reasonable idea what's happening. There is some wickedness about, but I just haven't been able to uncover it. How was Harry entered in the Tournament and why? Who is behind this and for what end? Anything unusual might give us an important clue. Let us read."

_Mr. Cedric Diggory,_

_I'm shocked, and your mother is absolutely destroyed. How could you do such a despickable thing. Don't you have a faintest idea how hard we have worked to give you the best possible foothold in life. And this is our reward? You throw our selfless efforts in the dirt and trample on our ideals. The very ideals you've been raised to share and respect, certainly not to mock with lewdness and unnatural vices._

_We can't even express how sickened we are by what you have done. Obviously you have been led astray by someone unworthy of your trust. We can't even imagine that a good boy such as you have been until now could have grown so bent without some depraved outside influence. Therefore we are going to give you one chance, and one chance only to redeem yourself and to abandon these evil ways. To that end, you must get engaged to be married as soon as possible. We have already talked to the Merrywhistles, and they were delighted. It seems that Fiona has never lost the infatuation she had for you a few years back. We feel sure that you'll thank us in the end. Her father is a baronet and at this point, she is a much better catch than you deserve. Also, she is a lovely girl, beautiful enough to make any young man forget their early missteps in adult life._

_As a guarantee to your good behaviour in the future, you must also give us the name of the boy who has seduced you. If necessary, we shall expose him for what he is and make sure he is both dishonored and dispelled from the school, if he still is a student at the time. Furthermore, as I am well placed in the Ministry, I can quite easily have him blacklisted for any government position. Or indeed make it very hard for him to get any well respected job at all in this country._

_However, if you can't be persuaded to return to proper behaviour, do know that you will be disinherited. There will be no returning to under our roof without your written consent to be married as soon as possible, certainly no later than next autumn._

_Remember, we have your best interest in mind._

_Amos Diggory_

"I can't _believe_ this!" Hermione exclaimed. "You're actually getting blackmailed by your own father!"

"I could easily imagine something like this from the Dursley's," said Ron, "but they really hate Harry. I thought your father liked you."

"Funnily enough, he does," Cedric said. "But only on his terms."

Harry didn't say anything.

"But what do you think Cedric should do?" Cho asked after a pause.

"It depends, I think." Hermione said. "Do you mind if ask you some questions," Hermione asked from Cedric, "even really obvious ones?"

"No, but why?"

"Sometimes it helps to get back to basics. And please consider your answers carefully, even if they seem like no-brainers."

"Okay."

"Right. Here we go, then: Do you love Harry?"

"Yes."

"Enough to abandon your family and heritage?"

"The way I see it, it would be them abandoning me. But yes, if I really have to choose between Harry and my parents, I'll choose Harry. Still, I hoped to find a way to get them to accept me, not to cut them off."

"Yes, I know. But your father is playing at a rather high stakes, here. If you're not ready to bet everything, I don't think you have a chance of succeeding. In a way it's just like poker, you know. He's claiming to be willing to cut you off. If you can't match that, see his bluff, so to speak, you have no choice but to fold, and you have already lost."

"Okay, I can see that," Cedric admitted, "Go on."

"Do you have any money of your own?"

"Yes. I'm not rich, but I do have something. Enough to last a couple of months, at least, if not half a year."

"In a place your father can't touch?"

"Yes. I have my own vault in Gringott's."

"So do I," Harry interrupted. "And it has quite a bit more."

"Okay, good. You have independent means, then. But what about this Fiona character? You like her? Are you going to have second thoughts if you are indeed forced to leave home because of Harry?"

"Fiona _is_ nice, but no. Definitely not. I..." Cedric hesitated, blushing a bit, "I only like boys, you know... If I was susceptible to pretty girls, Cho here would have snatched me already."

"I see," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "Cho?"

"Cedric's right. I used all the tricks I could think of," Cho replied. "Nothing worked. He really is as gay as they come. He just likes flirting with girls for the fun of it."

"I do not!" Cedric denied, obviously affronted.

"Yes you do! You might not realise it, but you break hearts all over the place."

"Not on purpose," Cedric said, "I don't."

"Maybe not, I guess you're too sweet. But don't you see, that's exactly why all the girls are falling for you."

"And not only girls," Harry said with a grin.

"So what are you saying, Cho?" Cedric asked. "That I should be mean?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. I'm just worried about you. Sorry."

"Don't be. But does anyone have ideas?"

"Well," Hermione started again, "on the strategic point of view I don't think you have much choice here. If you only like boys, you'll have to confront your parents sooner or later, or live your life in a lie."

"That's not an option." Cedric declared.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "There's no point in stopping what you have started so well. You have to stand up to your parents and, if necessary, leave home. Won't be easy, I guess, if it comes to that, but there are no real alternatives."

"But," said Harry.

"I know," Hermione interrupted. "That's only part of the plan. The other side must be to somehow make Cedric's parents see reason. The problem is, I have no idea how..."

"Neither do I," Cedric said. "Ain't that the pits?"

Nobody answered. There was nothing more to say.

There was a similar silence in the Headmaster's office. Filch had been sent away dissatisfied after being told the blast had been a pure accident. Dumbledore and McGonagall had mulled over the news without reaching any real conclusions, except that they couldn't really interfere in Cedric's life based on the letter alone.

"I'll be going, then," McGonagall said finally. "We shouldn't have read the letter."

"Maybe you're right, Minerva. However, now it's too late to worry about that."

"I know."

"Until tomorrow, then," Dumbledore said, looking both sad and tired. "Good night, Minerva"

"Good night, Albus. Try to get a proper night's sleep, why don't you."

"I will. Thank you, Minerva."

"You're welcome," she said, and left. For a long time, Dumbledore just stood in front of a window and stared out, like remembering something long since gone. After almost an hour, he let out a deep sigh and left for his private quarters.

TO BE CONTINUED


	14. Meetings in the Dark

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_When the third task was drawing closer, there was a growing unease among our little circle of friends. I felt more strongly than ever that something was wrong, but I couldn't locate the source of my anxiety. Cho and Harry were worried about Cedric, who was rather distressed about his disintegrating family ties. On top of that, Harry had his hands full of the tournament and its attachments; Daily Prophet, Bagman and Crouch. And Ron – well, being Ron, he was mostly hungry, but also somewhat worried about the behaviour of his brothers._

_In retrospect it's quite clear what my subconscious was trying to tell me, but isn't that always the case. We have the answers to our lives all around us, but most of the time we fail to see them. And it doesn't help at all that there are so many charlatans about, claiming to own the keys to the future. In my experience, the real clues are both more subtle and much more tangible than the feverish visions of the prophets or the fanciful omens of a false seer. But that spring, I was as useless as any palm-reader. I didn't uncover the menace that was biding its time, patiently waiting to destroy Harry. I totally failed to see the signs._

––––––––––––––––––––––

**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 14**

**Meetings in the Dark**

"Mars looks very red tonight," Harry said after a long silence. "They say it's a harbinger of war."

"Do you believe in omens?" Cedric asked. He was lounging on the couch of the Lost Observatory with Harry's half-naked form curled by his side. Once more the boys had defied the risk of getting caught and were spending the Friday night in the enchanting chamber of the tower. They had satisfied some of their most urgent need for each other and had been idly talking this and that for the last fifteen minutes or so.

"Some of them are real, I guess," Harry said, "but I also think it's awfully hard to tell the real ones from coincidences before they turn out to be genuine. And by then it's too late. Why?"

"Because I may have seen the Grim last night."

Harry startled. "Really? Where?"

"Beside the lake near the Forbidden Forest. I was walking and trying to think of a way to convert my parents."

"And what did it look like?"

"Like it's supposed to look," Cedric said. "A huge black dog. Teeth bared and eyes gleaming. I didn't hear a thing, but suddenly it was there, maybe twenty feet away. Gave me quite a scare. I managed to entangle my robes, and had to glance down to find my wand pocket, and when I looked back up, it had disappeared."

"Don't worry about it, Ced. I'm sure it was just Padfoot trying to get a good look at you," Harry mused. "After I first saw him last year and later learned about the Grim, I thought he must have been the Grim, too."

"Oh," Cedric said, sounding relieved. "I didn't realise. Stupid of me."

"I can ask if it really was him, if you like."

"Would you? Yes, I'd like that. And I'd love to meet him, too."

"I'm not sure that I'm ready to share you just yet..." Harry said, trailing his hand towards Cedric's groin.

"I didn't mean now, you dolt."

"Be nice, or I'll stop."

Cedric rolled on top of Harry, looking passionate all of a sudden. His silvery eyes darted between Harry's lithe body and green eyes and back again. He grinded his body against Harry and kissed him hungrily.

"Gods, Harry! I love you so much. And I really, really want to..."

"What?"

"You know... do the deed with you."

"I know you do... And I like it, you wanting me..." Harry hesitated, then went on, "but I don't think I'm ready to... to do that just yet... I'm sorry."

"I know a spell that makes it really nice," Cedric said, looking mischievous now.

"Oh I bet you do, loverboy!"

"Please?"

"Not tonight. You can think of it as my birthday present."

"But that's still weeks away!" Cedric moaned.

"I'm sorry," Harry said earnestly. "I'm just not ready yet."

"Don't be sorry. Seriously. I want you to want it, too. We can have fun the other ways." And after those words, Cedrics mouth travelled down his lover's body, and Harry's breathing grew ragged. This time was nice, long and varied, since they had all the night to spend. No classes in Saturday mornings.

It had been over two months since the dramatic day when Cedric got the ultimatum from his dad. The boys had been careful and kept their affections private, and other matters had replaced their possible affair as the main gossip fodder in Hogwarts. Also, people had gradually got used to the idea of Cedric and Cho being frieds with the Gryffindors, and therefore didn't have a reason to look for a possible romantic involvement any more. The credit for this remarkable improvement belonged to Hermione, who had wisely suggested that Harry and Cedric should never be seen together in public without at least one but preferably two of their confidants, i.e. Hermione herself, Ron or Cho. "The best place to hide," she had said, "is in plain sight. That way, people think you've got nothing to hide in the first place."

Of course, not everybody was that easy to deceive. Two weeks earlier, Fred and George had cornered Harry after a rather lazy late evening game of Quidditch the Gryffindor team had played just for the fun of it.

"So," asked Fred, "what's this fraternizing with the enemies we've seen you and our unfortunate excuse of a brother involved in?"

"What?" said Harry, being caught completely off guard.

"Oh, don't pretend innocence, Harry," said George with an evil grin. "We do know better, you know."

"But," said Harry, "what enemies?"

"Well," said George, putting an arm around Harry in a friendly gesture. "Maybe you don't remember it any more, being so young and all... "

"...but we used to play _against_ Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," Fred continued. "And I expect..."

"...we're going to do that again next year," George concluded.

"And?" asked Harry, urging the twins to elaborate while he was picking his brain furiously, trying to invent a plausible cover story.

"And what?" Fred returned the question.

"Do you really think we haven't noticed your frequent rendezvous with Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang?" asked George.

"No... not exactly," Harry answered nervously.

"And can you give us any acceptable reason why our seeker..." Fred started.

"That's you, Harry," George interrupted, "in case you have forgotten."

"...is having private conferences with both the Hufflepuff captain and the Ravenclaw seeker?" Fred finished.

"I..." Harry started, but couldn't think of any good enough fabrications to go on with.

"Why," asked George, "do I get the feeling that young Harry here is about to insult our unconventional intelligence by inventing some amateurish lies?"

"I don't know, George, but I have the exact same feeling," Fred answered.

"Beware, Harry. Lying is a form of art, and we are, not to be too modest about it, masters of it," George said.

"Besides," said Fred happily, "whatever you've been up to, if it's not Quidditch espionage, can't possibly upset us."

"Yeah," said George. "And we're not Wood. So even if it is Quidditch, we don't really mind, as long as it's entertaining."

"He's right, you know" said Fred. "We're bored. We could use a thrilling tale or two."

"Well," said Harry, "it's not about Quidditch. It's... something else." And he couldn't help himself blushing. The idea of what the Weasley twins might say about Cedric and him made Harry extremely nervous.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Fred. "The telltale blush!"

"Aah," went George. "The sidestepping!"

"Wow," said Fred. "Is it really possible that our Harry has found the only thing better?"

"Better than Quidditch?" asked George. "You mean the..." he continued, making some illustrative pelvis movements, "...horisontal mambo?"

"...the whoopee," confirmed Fred.

"...the roll in the hay," added George.

"In other words: shagging!" both twins exclaimed, beaming proudly at Harry.

"Shhh, could you two _please_ keep your voices down," Harry begged, but he couldn't help laughing at their antics all the same. "you're some piece of work, you are."

"But..." said Fred.

"The thrilling question remains," said George.

"Which one are you bonking _with?"_ asked Fred.

Harry found two identical faces peering at him questioningly at quite a close distance. It was sort of unnerving, and didn't improve his faculties for coherent thought under this hilarious but nonetheless a bit alarming interrogation.

"Is it the oriental Ravenclaw beauty, the incomparable miss Chang?" asked George with the air of great showmanship.

"I wouldn't mind doing her," commented Fred.

"Or is it perhaps the more daring choice," George went on, "charming Cedric, the Divine Diggory, as the ladies call him?"

"I have to admit," said Fred, "that he's hot. I wouldn't mind doing him either."

"You wouldn't mind doing anyone who's alive, under sixty and looking half decent," retorted George. "That's not the point. I wanna know who Harry does."

"So," said Fred, turning his attention back to Harry, "who are you bonking?"

"Nobody," said Harry, who felt rather relieved after Fred's casual banter about Cedric. "Not yet," he then continued, because both Fred and George looked like they were about to protest, loudly. "We are waiting for my birthday."

"We?" asked the twins in unison.

"Me and Ced... Cedric."

"I _knew_ it!" shouted Fred. "You owe me ten galleons, bro."

"No I don't," postulated George. "According to Harry, they aren't doing it yet."

"Yes you do, oh evil twin!," insisted Fred. "The wording for the bet was 'have sex with'. They must be doing something counting as sex if they're almost shagging."

"Harry?" George inquired.

"We are," confirmed Harry, grinning sheepishly.

"Like what?" asked George.

"Come on, George. I'm not gonna tell you that. It's private."

"So, George, you owe me ten galleons," repeated Fred.

"Yeah, okay," admitted George finally. "I guess you've got a point. But we should really start cleaning out other people. If we just bet against each other, we'll never get any richer."

And that was how the notorious Weasley twins entered the inner circle of Harry and Cedric. Having more people in their trusted little group made their meetings less conspicuous and easier to arrange. And since Harry didn't have the Marauder's Map anymore, the twins' enormous knowledge of the school was extremely welcome. Being the generous sort of chaps, excluding matters concerning money, Fred and George were both happy and eager to help. As they put it: "There's surely nothing more noble than helping a couple of poofs to find a peaceful trysting place under the ugly nose of Argus Filch."

Next Thursday after Harry and Cedric's night in the Old Observatory, Ludo Bagman showed the labyrinth to the four champions and explained the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. After the proceedings, Harry was practically dragged away by stormy looking Viktor Krum. When Cedric saw him being led away by Krum, he asked if Harry wanted him to accompany them. Harry said it was all right, that there was no need, but when he was walking away with Viktor he started to doubt if that was the right decision, the older boy was looking so angry it was quite scary. And it was quickly getting dark. When they were far enought for Krum to start talking, it soon turned out he was jealous of Harry because of Hermione. Harry was so relieved he almost giggled, but luckily managed to stop himself in time.

"Me and Hermione?" he asked instead. "Are you serious? She's just a friend of mine. She's never been my girlfriend."

"But it says in the paper..." Krum insisted.

"You have met that awful hag Skeeter," Harry said. "She writes anything to make people look bad, and Hermione confronted her about that. It's Rita's revenge. You shouldn't believe anything she writes."

"It's not only that. Ermione talks so much about you. And you are together all the time. I've seen it. How can I be sure?"

"Listen, can I trust you a secret?" Harry asked, abandoning caution, "to tell you something you must tell nobody else?"

"I am a Krum. In my family, we don't deceive."

"All right then. If you promise not to tell."

"I promise."

"Hermione couldn't be my girlfriend. I'm gay."

"You're happy? What do you mean?"

"Not happy. Well, I am quite, but I don't mean that," Harry clarified, "The word used to mean something like that. Now it means somebody who doesn't love the opposite... someone who likes... Well, it means that I don't like girls. It means queer, a poof. Viktor, she couldn't be my girlfriend. I like boys."

Suddenly it struck Harry that it was really unfair he had to explain it at all. He realised that for the rest of his life he would be explaining himself and risk getting shunned for what he was, like Cedric's parents were shunning him. On top of having a deadly arch-enemy and no parents it felt like an enormous burden all of a sudden. It was simply too much. He couldn't take it. He looked at Krum who had a perplexed expression on his dark face. Harry felt so frustrated he could have screamed. He wanted to kick something, so he did. When his toes crashed into a nearest boulder he realised it was a painful mistake.

"Don't you get it, Viktor. I'm not normal," Harry said, jumping on one foot, on the verge of tears and angry at himself because of that. "I'm a faggot. A bloody faggot."

"Don't say that!" Krum said vehemently. "Don't you ever say that. You are just as normal as everybody else. Don't let people tell you otherwise."

"What?" Harry said, flabbergasted enough to forget his toes. If he had been asked to guess Krum's reaction, this would have been the last option to occur to him. "Didn't you hear me? I'm not normal."

"What is normal? We are all different. It doesn't matter. You have as much right to love as anybody else," Krum said. "Listen. I have a kid... a younger brother. He is like you, I mean he likes boys, too, and he... he has a lot of trouble because of that. People can be so stupid."

"I know," Harry said, all his anger and frustration gone. "You're right, of course. Thank you, Viktor."

"Thank you, Harry, for trusting me."

After that, there was a long silence when the two boys just looked at each other with a new understanding and respect. After a bit it turned awkward, and they turned towards the school and started to talk about Quidditch.

Meanwhile, a malevolent figure was limping among the trees, cursing under its breath as it went. It spied from behind a gnarled tree how Harry and Viktor found delirious Bartemius Crouch, how Harry sprinted towards the castle ignoring his sore toes, and how Viktor Krum took up the vigil near but not within the reach of Mr. Crouch.

The figure drew out its wand, aimed carefully and growled: "Stupefy!" Viktor Krum was hit from behind and knocked off his feet by the powerful stunning spell. Another spell lifted momentarily unconscious Mr. Crouch from his resting place and transported him to the madly grinning Mad-Eye, who retreated further into the Forbidden Forest as fast as he could, levitating Mr. Crouch before him. When he was far enough, he let Mr. Crouch drop to the ground and revived him with yet another spell. It took the battered, bitter looking man a moment to regain his wits. The reviving spell had done it's trick, though. When Mr. Crouch opened his eyes he looked quite sane, unlike previously. Then he spotted Mad-Eye.

"Alastor? Thank Merlin it's you! I've... I need to see Dumbledore. I've done something terrible, and he is the only one who can help."

"Moody?" the man looking like Mad-Eye growled. "I'm not Mad-Eye. I just borrowed him for a disguise. He is contained in his own trunk, getting weaker by the week. Just like you... Dad."

"You! Barty!" Mr Crouch shouted. "What have you done?"

"Yes, me. And it's finally the payback time. Too bad I'm in a hurry and can't give you the kind of slow torment you have caused me over all these years. Instead I'm just gonna give you a little taste of Cruciatus curse before I'll finish you off."

"But you can't! Please! After all, I'm your..."

"Silencio!" Crouch Jr. shouted. "You are a worthless blood traitor. Imprisoning your own son. _I have no father. _Sounds familiar, doesn't it? And it's going to be true in just a few moments... Crucio!"

Barty Crouch watched with obvious, deranged pleasure as his father writhed in silent agony. The face he had stolen from the real Alastor Moody was contorted in an inhuman, beast-like grimace. After some moments he let the curse fade. His father was looking at him with a silent plea in his eyes. His lips were moving. No sound came out, but Mr Crouch mouthed his last words so clearly that it didn't made any difference. His son couldn't help but to understand the message.

"Please. I only did it because I love you," Mr. Crouch mouthed.

"Avada Kedavra!" screamed Barty Crouch, as if to silence the unspoken words. There was a green flash, and Mr. Crouch disappeared from the face of Marauder's Map in Mad-Eyes pocket. He was no more.

TO BE CONTINUED


	15. Observing Eyes

Happy New Year!

Don't you just hate the Real Life interfering with your fanfiction. I do. And I do apologise once again for the infernally long pause between the chapters. But this time I have an excuse you might enjoy; my limited Harry Potter time has been for the large part consumed by the wonderful stories by Minisinoo. If you don't know her, do a web search. Nobody who likes H/C should miss her Aorist Subjunctive series.

Anyway, I do hope you enjoy _my_ latest chapter, too.

Love ya all.

Takeo

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Pensieve is a fascinating invention. The way it allows one to examine his or somebody else's memories from outside, so to speak. Sometimes I hope there was a similar device for thoughts and feelings, too. Especially the latter, since feelings are so hard to figure out, both one's own and others' too. While Harry and Cedric seemed to have reached a comfortable level of stability in their relationship, my own budding love-life was anything but. I was flattered by the obvious interest of Viktor Krum, how could I not be, but he was almost intimidating at times, and I couldn't quite see us being together. Frankly, I was afraid it would be too unequal, him being so much more experienced. Also, there was Ron, whom I had been infatuated with from the very beginning. Thick-headed, impossible, and completely lovable Ronald Weasley, who didn't seem capable of any kind of romantic overtures. I was thoroughly frustrated. Also, Harry and Cedric seemed so sure of each other that I couldn't help envying them._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 15**

**Observing Eyes**

"You told _Krum!_ Are you bonkers!"

"Oh don't you start, too, Ron," Harry answered. "Hagrid was raving against him, Durmstrang and Madame Maxime all the time when he saw me back here." Harry was sitting in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room with Ron and Hermione after Hagrid had left him outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. He had first filled them in on the Crouch situation and had just been telling about his conversation with Viktor.

"I'm not raving," said Ron, taken aback.

"You'd better not be," said Hermione with a satisfied expression on her face. She had positively flushed when she heard what Krum had had to say to Harry. "It goes against everything Dumbledore told us the Tournament was arranged for."

"If you mean _'international ties of friedship',_ you must have exceeded all the expectations," Ron said rather poisonously, "to make _Vicky_ so possessive of you."

"Firstly: It's none of your business what I do or don't do with Viktor Krum. Secondly: I don't see why I wouldn't," Hermione replied with a steely voice and upturned nose, "since I don't have any other attachments. Besides, you're practically drooling every time Fleur walks by."

"I _don't_ drool," said Ron furiously.

"Oh, then what do you call it when your jaw falls open and your saliva makes a puddle on the floor?" Hermione inquired with daggers shooting from her eyes.

"Stop bickering, you two, before you say something you'll _really_ regret tomorrow."

"At least she's worth looking at. Krum looks like a..."

"Merlin's beard!" Harry barked. "Shut the bloody up! I don't need another episode of the Unspeakables. We should try to find out what happened to Mr. Crouch."

Ron looked at him, startled. After a tense moment or two he nodded. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, mate."

Harry turned. "Hermione?"

Hermione didn't say anything for a while. "Well all right," she finally relented. "Ron, you don't drool really."

"I know."

"And it is none of your business what I do with Viktor."

"I _know_."Ron repeated through clenched teeth. "I just... It's not... Bugger!"

"You what?" Hermione asked. But her voice had suddenly lost the steel, it was actually encouraging, and there was a strange look of anticipation on her face. Ron of course failed to notice the look, because he was staring at his feet, and it seemed to Harry he didn't register the changed tone of voice, either. Watching Ron, Harry got a distinct impression of a pressure cooker about to explode. But in the end, it didn't happen. With an uncharasteristic restrain, Ron took a couple of slow breaths, massaged his temples roughly with both hands, and finally looked up.

"Nothing," Ron muttered.

"You're okay, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine," Ron replied, but he didn't measure up to his words. He looked harrowed.

Hermione flashed a wavering, sad sort of smile at him, turned to Harry and started afresh, a little too brightly to be totally convincing: "So, can you remember _exactly_ what Mr. Crouch said when he was in his right mind."

Harry obliged, and told, as well as he could remember, everything once more. They talked about it for a while, but didn't reach any conclusions. They simply didn't have enough information, and so the conversation kept running in circles, each participant returning to their own pet theories that were impossible to either verify or disprove with any certainty. Soon they got both tired and annoyed, and went to bed. All and all, they had had better times.

- - -

The following morning saw the trio going to the owlery at an obscenely early hour, sending a letter to Padfoot without observing eyes. Or so they thought, but didn't manage to be there early enough to avoid awkward questions. Fred and George were also up and about at this most unlikely time. After some dallying with the idea of finding out what the others were up to, the two parties reached an uneasy verbal cease-fire, and got their respective parcels sent.

Later that same day, Harry, Ron and Hermione went to see professor Moody, who told them that he didn't see Mr. Crouch on the Marauder's Map the previous evening. That seemed very odd, even inexplicable, but in the end didn't seem to shed any light to Mr. Crouch's strange disappearance. In fact, it only made the mystery deeper.

During the day, Ron and Hermione seemed to tread with unusual care around each other's feelings. Harry noticed it with silent amusement. After dinner, Hermione took him to the side and they took a long detour to the Gryffindor Tower. She wanted to have a little chat, which was easier away from the bustle of the Common Room.

"Harry," Hermione asked while they were strolling along a deserted corridor, "do you think he'll ever come around?"

"Ron, you mean?"

"Yes. Obviously."

"Dunno. He really likes you, we both know that."

"Yeah, but why doesn't he _do_ something about it?"

"It's awfully hard for boys to fathom what to do and when, you know?"

"But why? I've been hinting for him to speak up dozens of times."

"Hints won't do. He doesn't get them. It's not like he has _a_ _manual_ for girls."

"How can he not get them. I think I've been fairly obvious."

"Because he's Ron, that's why. You can't expect him to figure out subtle hints. You have to tell him straight up. I don't mean he's _stupid_, because he's not. He just isn't wired that way. Besides, if you want Ron, why don't _you_ do something about it."

"I _am _doing something. Why do you think I'm flaunting Viktor's interest in front of his nose. It should rouse him."

"Hermione, just last night you pretty much told him you are seeing Krum, and to bugger off. He probably thinks you _know_ he likes you, and given that, when you tell him your dating is none of his business, he takes it at the face value and scampers off to lick his wounds. He's pretty gallant, you know, despite everything. Wooing somebody else's girl isn't really an option for Ron."

"Oh. I did that, didn't I?"

"Yes you did. And if you keep up doing the Krum charade, he'll probably end up together with some godawful trollop he doesn't even like, just to have someone."

"Harry, I..."

"It is a charade, isn't it? With Krum?"

"I won't lie to you. It's quite flattering to have Viktor's attention. He seems really interested in me. He makes me feels very... adult, if you know what I mean. And we _have_ kissed, and stuff like that. But yes, it's more or less a charade on my part. We're not together, and I haven't really fallen in love with him. And I have told that to Viktor, too."

"Still, you make it too complicated. Boys are simple. Just tell Ron you fancy him, and you'll have what you wanted. I'm willing to bet on that."

"Harry, it's my life and happiness we are talking about, I don't intend to gamble with it."

"If that's what you think, you might have lost already. _You_ taught me that, when we were talking about Cedric's dad. You can't win if you don't play."

- - -

With the third task drawing closer, Harry started to get anxious all over again. It wasn't even close to the panic preceding the second task, but he still found it hard to get enough sleep. He sometimes saw nightmares of different magical beasts he either had faced before or read about in classes, or just slept restlessly and woke up all bleary-eyed even after full night's sleep. And every now and then, he spent half the night with Cedric, usually in the Old Observatory. That was exhilarating, but still made him tired.

The reply Harry got from Sirius on a Saturday morning didn't improve his spirits at all when he first read it. Instead of offering some fresh angle on the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Crouch his godfather just told him off for being outside after dark, especially with Viktor Krum. For the first time ever, Harry felt Padfoot had let him down. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and only noticed in the evening the postscript on the other side of the parchment.

_"P.S._

_Yes, it was me checking out your fellow that night by the lake. He looks positively edible. If he's as nice as good-looking, hold onto him, come what may. Take my word for it, lads like him don't grow on trees."_

Suddenly Harry felt elated again. His godfather might not approve of his possibly dangerous adventures, but thank Merlin he did approve his romantic ones. He grinned to himself, and left dormitory to look for Cedric. It wasn't _that_ late yet.

- - -

Next week in the drowsy atmosphere of Divination, Harry drifted off into the much needed sleep. For an indeterminable length of time, he didn't dream of anything. Then he dreamt of flying. It felt liberating at first, but then he sensed another creature next to him. It was an owl. Not Hedwig, but one of the nameless, generic owls of the school. He didn't know why, but he knew it was coming from Hogwarts. He decided to follow it, or perhaps there was no choice. It's hard to tell when you're dreaming. Things just happen.

What happened next was that the owl, trailed by the invisible presence of the dream Harry, swooped down on a big old mansion. It flew in an open window, along long, dark and dank corridor and into a large room with a fireplace and a big, shabby armchair, of which Harry only saw the back. There was a terrifyingly big snake coiled around the chair. Nagini's attention was on the other familiar figure in the room. The man was trembling like a jelly, his mouselike face contorted by fear.

"Give me the letter, Wormtail," hissed Voldemort's voice. With shaking hands, Peter Pettigrew fumbled at the parcel attached to the leg of the owl. With the third try, he managed to disentangle it and handed it to something or someone in the chair. After a while, Voldemort spoke again.

"Good news, Wormtail. Your blunder has been corrected. He is dead. However, I'm not ready to forgive you just yet..."

There was a long, heavy pause. Just when Wormtail was raising his trembling gaze in an apparent effort to speak, Voldemort, spoke again.

"Nagini, dinner!"

The snake raised it's huge head. Wormtail whimpered and tried to escape, but one coil of the snake tripped him. And then the snake hit, faster than eye could follow. The owl, which was still present, took flight in scare. Too late. With a sickening crunch the bird was crushed between Nagini's jaws, and disappeared. Nagini swallowed it whole, as snakes do, and the lump that used to be a Hogwarts post owl traveled down it's body, to be slowly digested during the next day or two.

Voldemort laughed. It sounded horrible.

"Scared you, did I, Wormtail?"

"Ye... yes, my lord." He was still shaking.

"At least you have learned not to try and lie to me, Wormtail. I can't afford Dumbledore finding out where his owls have been, now, can I?"

"No, my lord."

"You were lucky, Wormtail. I won't be feeding you to Nagini just yet. Maybe never, if your luck holds. You amuse me, without intending to. You're like a court jester, portraying all the weaknesses of the humankind. All but that most frivolous one, love. And that, as you well know, I have always dispised."

"Yes, my lord."

"And Nagini, don't fret. Very soon, I'll be feeding you Harry Potter. And maybe his poofter boyfriend, too, unless he proves too beautiful to throw away..."

"Harry Potter's boyfriend? What...? Who, my lord?"

"Shut up, Wormtail. I haven't finished with your punishment yet."

"But lord..."

"No, Wormtail... Crucio!"

- - -

Harry screamed. He fell from his chair, clutching his scar. And woke up. Professor Trelawney sidled up to him, and started fussing about what he had seen. Her enormous spectacles reflected the window behind Harry. Harry, however, was not to be distracted. He knew he had to talk to Dumbledore, nobody else would do. So, despite Trelawney's obvious distress and fervent questions, he excused himself and bolted for the Headmaster's office.

When Harry arrived, Dumbledore was busy arguing with the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Also present was Alastor Moody, who observed Harry's arrival through the Headmaster's office door. He informed the others of Harry's presence, who went in and was asked to wait in the office by Dumbledore. After that, the two professors and Fudge left. Harry tried his best to pass the time by looking around Dumbledore's magnificent room. After a while he noticed that a cupboard door was ajar and a strange glow was emanating from within. He opened the door and saw a heavy-looking basin filled with the most intriguing, swirling substance which looked neither gas nor liquid, but something in between, or maybe both. It was the first time Harry saw a Pensieve. The silvery colour reminded him of Cedric's eyes.

The pensieve was not the only new thing his eyes were to see that day. While studying the substance in it, he got his nose too close and suddenly the room seemed to lurch and Harry fell _into_ the basin. Instead of getting wet, he fell through the vessel and landed in an underground courtroom. Nobody reacted to Harry in any way, and he realised he must be in some kind of magical recording, like the ones Tom Riddle's diary had shown him two years earlier. Harry saw parts of three separate court sessions, first with Igor Karkaroff as the accused, then Ludo Bagman and finally a young man, who was revealed to be Mr. Crouch's son, Barty Crouch, together with some other death-eaters. His father, who was the judge, gave Barty a lifetime in Azkaban.

"I think, Harry, it is time to return to my office," said a quiet voice in Harry's ear. Startled, Harry found Albus Dumbledore by his side looking straight at him.

"Come," said Dumbledore, took hold of Harry's elbow and raised him up to the air. The courtroom dissolved, and after a moment of darkness they arrived back at the headmaster's brigthly lit office in Hogwarts.

Embarrassed and even a bit afraid, Harry tried to apologise for nosing around Dumbledore's office and messing with the basin, but the headmaster waved his apologies aside.

"I quite understand," Dumbledore said, and proceeded to explain the workings of the Pensieve to Harry. He even demonstrated, putting a fresh memory into it, and showing some older ones to Harry. He also explained he had been using the device when Fudge had arrived, and had put it away quite hastily.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I know I shouldn't have ---"

"Curiosity is not a crime," Dumbledore interrupted. Then followed a silence, during which he observed Harry closely with his bright blue eyes.

"So, Harry, before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes," said Harry. "Professor, I was in Divination just now, and... I fell asleep."

"Quite understandable. Continue."

"Well, I had a dream," said Harry. He described, in as much detail as he could remember, the flight, the manorhouse, the room with the chair, and what had happened there, until he came to the part where Voldemort mentioned his boyfriend. He couldn't quite bring himself to say that aloud, so instead he just said Voldemort intended to feed him, Harry, to the snake. "Then he did the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail, and my scar hurt. It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Dumbledore merely looked at him.

"Um, that's all," Harry said, a bit defensively.

"I see," said Dumbledore gravely. "Now, are you quite sure that is all you remember, Harry? Or have you maybe something else in your mind you wish to tell me. You know, I'm quite a good listener, and I won't betray your confidences, nor laugh at you, if that's what you're afraid of. "

"I..." Harry started a denial, but couldn't go on. Dumbledore's eyes seemed to x-ray him, like they sometimes did. Harry felt like his own eyes were wide open windows to his heart, his very being, and Dumbledore saw in his eyes everything there was to see in Harry Potter. Harry felt naked, and somewhat uncomfortably ashamed of himself. Not about being gay, exactly, or loving Cedric, but because he didn't have enough courage to admit it. He looked away, out of the window into the sun. There was someone flying above the Quidditch goalposts. Harry was sure he would never find the right words or the right moment to tell Dumbledore.

"I love Cedric Diggory," he then blurted suddenly and without meaning to do so. It just came out. After that, he didn't dare look back at Dumbledore.

"Ah," uttered Dumbledore. "Do continue, please."

"It's not only that I... fancy him," Harry continued "even if I do." It was easy to talk now, when the cat was out of the bag. "I guess that makes me gay. But it feels so much more than just an infatuation. And it's not just me, I mean... he's my boyfriend. He loves me, too." Harry halted and forced himself to look at Dumbledore, not at all sure what reaction his confession might bring. But the headmaster's face was hidden. He was leaning his forehead to his hands and looking down at the tabletop.

"Professor..." Harry asked, because he found out he couldn't take the uncertainty, "are you... are you disappointed in me?"

The headmaster lifted his head. To Harry's immense relief Dumbledore was smiling, first just a bit, and somewhat sadly, but as he looked at Harry, his smile widened and there appeared about a thousand small wrinkles of laughter around his eyes, which sparkled with merriment, and something more profound, too. Harry thought it looked like... pride.

"Harry, you brave boy! Disappointed? How could I be disappointed because of this. I'm happy that you have found someone to love, so early in your life. And very proud of you, since you dared to confide in me. Do you have any idea how many people who are... different, one way or another... go through their lives without ever telling anybody, because they are afraid what people might say. It takes a lot of courage. No, I'm anything but disappointed. Once again, you have risen even above my admittedly great expectations for you."

"I _was_ afraid to tell you. But I had to, because... because Cedric might be in danger," Harry said, realising it was true. "That dream, do you think it really happened?"

"It is possible. I would say, probable. Harry, did you _see_ Voldemort?"

"No, just the back of his chair. But... there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there. I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But... but then how could he have held the wand?" Harry said slowly.

"How indeed," muttered Dumbledore, _"How indeed."_

Dumbledore seemed to get lost in his thoughts, for he didn't speak for a long time. Every now and then he put another new thought into the Pensieve. Finally Harry couldn't bear any more.

"Professor?" he asked.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Um, I didn't tell you everything about the dream."

"Ah. Do continue, then, please."

"When Voldemort talked about feeding me to Nagini, he... also said he might feed my boyfriend to the snake, too," Harry said with a small, scared voice. "And... and Wormtail seemed very surprised, and asked Voldemort who it was. And then Voldemort told him to shut up, and started to torture him with the Cruciatus curse. _Then_ I woke up."

"Oh, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry. But do not despair. Voldemort's not omnipotent, you know. There is a great deal we can do to prevent his threat from ever happening. Now, if you don't mind, I think we should summon Mr. Diggory."

"You mean Cedric, right? Not his father? Because, his father isn't very happy with Cedric right now."

"Yes, I did mean Cedric."

"That," Harry said blushing a little, "would be wonderful."

Dumbledore smiled, looking amused, took a piece of parchment, scribbled a few words on it, gave it to Fawkes the phoenix, and muttered something to it's ear. The magnificent bird took flight, headed for the door and disappeared, leaving just a few glittering sparks behind.

"While we wait," said Dumbledore, "would you like a lemon drop?"

TO BE CONTINUED


	16. The Interview

Whoa!

I did know it's been a loooooonnng time coming, but I didn't realise it took me more than half a year to write this latest chapter. Sorry about that. Anyway, here it finally is. A lot of talk, this time, but imo necessary for the plot.

Love you, and thanks a lot for the reviews.

:)

Takeo

P.S. This is an updated version. I received some constructive criticism on the discussion scene between Cedric and Dumbledore, and agreed with it, so I rewrote some sections of the latter part of the chapter. Hope it is better now.

--

**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Our headmaster Albus Dumbledore was, without competition, the most influential figure of our years at school. His wit, his both flamboyant and courteous manners and wonderful idiosyncrasies made him an unforgettable person. But that's not what I miss the most, now that he's gone. It's the serious moments, when someone was in the need of compassion, help or both. That was when you could really see what made Dumbledore the best teacher and headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. He cared, about people in general, about the basic principles of how people should and shouldn't be treated, and most important of all, he cared about the individual persons, each and every one of those who crossed his path in any significant way. He lived as he preached; even amongst his legendary magical abilities, his greatest weapon was simply love. One could argue that Dumbledore died because he loved too easily, but it is also true that all his plans to destroy Voldemort came to fruition because and only because a lot of people, not just Harry, loved and respected him enough to carry out his will. Love conquered, in the end._

--

**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 16**

**The Interview**

Cedric was in his Arithmancy class puzzling over a dizzyingly complex piece of magical number theory when Fawkes suddenly materialised in the room, dropped a piece of parchment on the professor Vector's desk and disappeared again. Those who hadn't been looking at the front of the room didn't have time to see the phoenix at all, only a golden flash in their peripheral vision that disrupted their concentration on the numbers. Professor Vector, on the other hand, kept her usual cool demeanor, read the parchment and called out to Cedric.

"Mr. Diggory, you are needed in the Headmaster's office immediately. Kindly leave your finished work here. The ones yet unsolved you can return to me tomorrow."

"Very well," replied Cedric, packing his things. "I'll do my very best, professor."

He left without further talk, wondering what Dumbledore might want of him. "Maybe," he said to himself, "dad has been pulling some strings..." The thought filled him with anguish and impotent anger at his stubborn, stupid and oh-so-proper father. Before he had time for more theories, he arrived at the gargoyles watching over Dumbledore's entrance. The door opened immediately, since he was invited by the Headmaster, and Cedric found himself in the slowly revolving magical staircase lifting him to the upper floor. When up, he knocked on the intricately carved oaken door.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's voice from inside.

Cedric opened the door and went in. He had been in Dumbledore's office only twice before, and had almost forgotten what a delightful room it was. The portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses looked mostly alert and interested in him, which made Cedric think something unusual must have been going on. On both of his previous visits a good quarter of the paintings had been empty, their subjects having wandered somewhere else, and almost all the rest had been sleeping, or appearing to. In addition to the portraits, there were a lot of mysterious devices whirring, clicking or standing still all over the office. Then there was Fawkes, preening on its perch, as beautiful as ever. Next on their journey around the room, Cedric's eyes fell on Albus Dumbledore himself, who wasn't any less arresting than his office. Up close and personal like this, Dumbledore had always seemed to Cedric more impressive than in public. Headmaster's blue eyes seemed to pierce him, his long white hair and beard took on some of the ethereal glow emanating from Fawkes, and his blue, starry robes looked rich and magnificent.

"Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore said. "Good of you to arrive so quickly."

"Of course. What did you need me for?" Cedric asked and walked forwards. He realised that somebody was sitting in a chair facing Dumbledore's desk. The high back of the chair had obscured the person until Cedric had moved. Then that somebody turned.

"Harry? What... Are you okay?"

Harry launched from his chair and attached himself to Cedric so fast the impact almost bowled the older boy over. Harry's arms went around Cedric's body and he burrowed his face into Cedric's robes. Cedric threw a measuring glance to Dumbledore and decided to do what he wanted to despite the Headmaster being there. He embraced Harry right back and started to stroke his neck with one hand. It seemed obvious that Harry was upset about something, and he'd be damned if he let the presence of Albus Dumbledore stop him from consoling his loved one. Cedric lowered his head and started to murmur in Harry's ear.

"Shh. S'alright, Harry. I'm right here."

"I'm fine _now._ Just... a bit shaken... and, I... wanted to be sure of you."

"I love you, Harry," Cedric whispered in his ear. "Nothing's more sure than that."

"You don't have to whisper," Harry said, looking up. "I told Dumbledore."

"Well, I sort of gathered you wouldn't be hugging me this fiercely," Cedric said conversationally, aloud, "if you wanted to keep things hushed up."

"Cedric," Dumbledore said taking the opportunity to join in, "and forgive me asking you this, since it shouldn't really be any of my business, but are you... truly committed to Harry?"

"Yes, Headmaster, I am. Why?"

"Because now _I_ _have to be_ sure of you, too," Dumbledore said rather bluntly. He saw a frown appearing on Cedric's handsome face, and his eyes narrowing. Cedric had understood Dumbledore's words as the challenge they were, and was responding to it. At that moment, Dumbledore saw in him a glimpse of the man Cedric was to become. He looked strong, brave and determined to defend his beloved against all odds. Dumbledore nodded.

"Don't misundestand me, Cedric," Dumbledore went on, "I don't disapprove of your relationship. In fact, I rather approve. Harry will likely need all the support he can get, and if you two really love each other, that's the very best fortification against Voldemort. However," he raised his forefinger to stop Cedric, who seemed to be about to interrupt him, "your relationship poses new kinds of problems when Harry's safety is concerned. It would help immensely, if I knew I can trust you as completely as I trust Harry."

"And what, sir, do you think I could possibly do to make you trust me, if you don't already?" Cedric asked a bit coldly. "As far as I understand, trust is something that gradually grows between people. It can't be conjured up by magic."

"You are right, of course," Dumbledore said, "and once more I have to apologise for my rudeness, since you have never given me a reason _not to trust you._ Therefore I should without further ado, but for the high stakes involved. Harry's the Boy Who Lived," Dumbledore said with a sad sort of a smile, "and I would very much like him to continue doing so."

"So would I," Cedric said seriously. "With all my heart. Therefore, what _can_ I do to make you trust me?" This time the question wasn't a cold shoulder, but an honest enquiry.

"I'd like to have a rather exhaustive private conversation with you, if that suits you. A kind of a job interview, if you like. I have of course followed your school career with admiration, but since I don't teach any regular classes, I don't really know you as well as I'd like to and this new situation requires. And to my considerable experience, there's nothing better than a good conversation to help nurture the growth of mutual trust."

"Of course," Cedric said, sounding relieved and visibly relaxing. "That would be my pleasure. When shall we set to it, then?"

"Almost immediately, if that's all right with you. I'll have dinner brought up here. After the tidings Harry brought, I don't really want to delay."

"Oh bugger, I almost forgot. Forgive my language, Headmaster." Apologetically Cedric turned to look at Harry, who was resting his head on his shoulder. "What was it that made you so upset, Harry?"

"Voldemort. He knows about us... I mean, if the dream I had really was true," Harry said, "and that puts you as much in danger as I am. And..." he grinned sheepishly, feeling a bit dense, "...and I got worried Voldemort somehow got to you already. It's stupid, I know, but I was _so_ relieved when you walked in."

"Worrying about the wellfare of our loved ones is not stupidity," Dumbledore corrected kindly, "but a measure of one's heart."

"Dumbledore's right," Cedric said, "but would you maybe tell me about this dream of yours?"

Harry related the dream once more. But he still couldn't make himself reveal the most ominous thing Voldemort had said: _"...unless he proves too beautiful to throw away..." _The idea of Cedric as the Dark Lord's plaything made him feel sick, and tainted, somehow, as if it was him who had invented the idea, not Voldemort.

Dwelling on these unhappy thoughts Harry lost the track of the conversation after finishing his story. Also, and somewhat contradicting his worries, he felt extraordinarily safe and at ease at the moment, leaning against Cedric's strong shoulder in the presence of both Dumbledore and Fawkes. Harry relaxed into Cedric's embrace, and might even have nodded off for a bit. But then Cedric moved in reaction to something the Headmaster had said, and Harry startled up again.

"But what," Cedric was asking, "can we do to make it safer still? As you said, the school is guarded. If we don't go outside of it, and Voldemort can't get in without being noticed, the risk of an abduction should be minimal."

"It's as small as I could make it," Dumbledore agreed. "But Voldemort is an extremely capable wizard, and very cunning. Even if he hasn't got his full powers back, he might have found a way to get to Harry that I haven't thought of to prevent. Therefore, better safe than sorry, as they say. Besides, I have an item that might be of use to us."

Dumbledore stood up, went to a book cabinet behind his desk and picked up one of the curious objects lying on top of it. He came back and showed it to Harry and Cedric. It was a round disc-like object made of dark stone and silver, with seven stubby appendages encircling a little more than half of the outer egde, three of them ending with a small sphere. On the disc itself amid delicate carvings there were seven silver buttons. The center of the disk had a cog-like wheel with an arrow across it, almost like a compass rose. The whole was just big enough for Dumbledore to hold comfortably in his palm, with his fingers going between the appendages.

"This," said Dumbledore, "is a Keystone. It will help me to find you in case of an emergency. Or, indeed, whenever I want to."

"But how?" asked Harry. "What does it do?"

"I always thought a keystone is the central stone of an arch or a vault," Cedric said. "This must be something else entirely."

"Yes and no, Mr. Diggory," Dumdledore said, and elaborated after a short pause, "it has the same purpose; to keep a whole together. It's also a word-play of a sort. You know, of course, what a Portkey is?"

"Yes," answered Harry, "we took one to the Quidditch World Cup."

"Well, you could say that a Keystone is a more advanced version of a Portkey. The small spheres are Beacons. The owner of the Keystone gives them to people he or she wishes to see again. And they go... wherever they do. When the Keystone owner wants to see them again, he activates the Keystone for a Beacon at a time, and he can either Port himself to the Beacon holder or vice versa. In practise, it's a portkey that's not set to a fixed location, but to a person, or several. So," Dumbledore said, offering each of the boys one of the three remaining Beacons, "as long as you hold onto these, I can get you back to safety or Port myself to help you, if either of you go missing."

"That," said Cedric, "sounds absolutely wonderful."

"The best thing is," continued the Headmaster, "that the Beacons keep true to their purpose even when transformed, which helps quite a lot. One can turn them into pocket-watches, or rings, or belt-buckles, anything that is both easy and inconspicuous to carry around, and they still work as beacons. Would you like to do the honours, Cedric? McGonagall has praised your transformations skills, and I'd like to see more of your handiwork. The seagull during the second task was impeccable."

"Thank you, sir," Cedric said. "What would you like yours to be, Harry?"

"A belt-buckle sounds perfect," Harry replied. "I don't wan't another thing that I'd have to remember to carry around. My wand and the cloak are quite enough."

"So," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "I take it Mr. Diggory knows about your father's invisibility cloak. Of course, it must be quite useful for romantic endeavours..."

Cedric had the decency to blush. Harry, due to his blushing-prone genes, had no choice.

- - -

Ten minutes later Harry was walking towards the Gryffindor common room feeling a bit nonplussed. True, he had a rather cool new belt-buckle with a Gryffingor lion motif, but he had also been, politely but firmly, shooed out of the Headmaster's office by Dumbledore right after Cedric had finished his extremely competent transformation spells for the Beacons. It seemed that the conversation between Dumbledore and Cedric, presumably mostly about him, was going to be conducted without him. Rationally, he knew it was necessary. Emotionally, he wanted to kick something. Or better yet, hex it into oblivion. It, in this case, being any sort of scapegoat, dead (An armor, perhaps?) or alive (Where the heck is Malfoy when you really need him, huh?).

Instead of Malfoy, he met Ron and Hermione, who were full of questions and anxieties about his sudden flight from the Divination class. Harry gave them a short version of what had happened since, and what he saw in the dream.

"That's awful! " Hermione exclaimed immediately after he finished. "And what did Dumbledore--"

"Let's go practise hexes," Harry interrupted her. "Sorry, but I've been talking for _hours_. I need to _do_ something, instead. I'll tell you the rest after that, okay?"

After some protests the other two agreed, and in the end, Harry got to hex something into oblivion, namely practise targets conjured up by Hermione. He found it quite satisfying, actually, releasing his frustration on them. As anger management, it was almost as good as chopping firewood.

- - -

In the meantime, Dumbledore and Cedric had finished a marvellous dinner in the Headmaster's office, and were about to start discussing life, universe and everything in earnest. It had started with Dumbledore clapping his hands to summon a house-elf, ordering dinner for two, and swishing his wand to levitate two wineglasses of fine crystal from a cupboard, accompanied by an old and dusty bottle of red wine.

"Can I perhaps tempt you to have a glass of wine, Mr Diggory?" Dumbledore requested with refined tones of voice, but eyes twinkling.

"But..." asked Cedric in astonishment, "what about the school rules? I thought students aren't allowed to drink alcohol."

"There are rules, Mr. Diggory, and then there are rules. I'm quite confident that a young man of your caliber can differentiate between the ones that are important to follow, and the ones that can occasionally be ignored."

"Well, yes, I hope I can," Cedric replied, smiling now, "since I have to admit I must have ignored most of what I think are the latter ones in one case or another."

"Quite right. And don't worry, this isn't an interrogation. I'm not going to pester you about trivial misdemeanors. But I do intend to find out what kind of a man you really are. And for that, a little bit of good wine is most appropriate. Not too much, since I don't want to cloud your judgement, but a glass or two won't hurt. Besides, this is an exceptionally good bottle, about twice your age."

And so the cork came off, and deep crimson wine was poured. Dumbledore raised his glass, and Cedric replied in kind. The wine was amazing. Rich and complex beyond description, with a tad of sweetness but also a substantial bite to it. With his limited experience, Cedric hadn't even thought a wine could be this delicious. Resisting the temptation to gulp it all down, he settled for carefully measured sips.

"Now," Dumbledore said, "while we wait for the dinner, could you perhaps tell me more about your ideas about rules in general, why we need them and why and when it is all right to break them?"

Cedric was both raised well in the art of conversation, and accustomed to oral examinations in school, so he wasn't the least bothered by the sudden question. On the contrary, Cedric liked the intellectual challenge of formulating his thoughts and ideas into coherent sentences.

"Well, as far as I see it," he replied, "any human society needs some amount of commonly accepted rules to function at all. The bigger the community is, the bigger set of rules is needed to keep it running smoothly... However, all rules are not created equal..." Cedric paused for a while, collecting his thoughts, and continued, when Dumbledore didn't speak. "The more complex the set of rules become, the more there's bound to be 'white noise'; irrelevant and trivial rules with no real moral value behind them. Those one can safely ignore whenever necessary. If everybody took the literal Percy Weasley approach to each and every rule, everyday life would be impossible."

"I quite agree," Dumbledore said. "But to come a bit closer to home, how do you determine yourself what rules are important and which ones are, as you put it, 'white noise'?"

"I'm afraid I am a bit of an individual there," Cedric admitted after a thoughtful pause. "If the rules are tolerable, I tolerate them. If they are not, I break them. I think I am... well, people in general are morally accountable only to themselves. Then again, I think that's the most stringent measure, if they are honest to themselves... "

"So you believe in the inherent goodness of people?"

"Well, not necessarily. What I mean is that in the end, one can't really count on any external measure when deciding if something is good or bad. I have to use my own head, because, obviously, I can't use anyone else's."

"Right. But you shouldn't forget that you happen to have an exeptionally sharp head on your shoulders," Dumbledore pointed out. "You're better equipped to make responsible choises than many others."

"Yeah," Cedric said, blushing slightly. " I guess I have. But for those who can't or don't want to make the moral choises for themselves, we do have our rules. Laws, other written rules, and the more intangible rules that govern our social life. But the point is, they aren't always right."

"Indeed they aren't," Dumbledore confirmed. "Law and justice are often very different beasts..."

"So, despite and independently of the rules," Cedric concluded, "I have to be able to live with myself and respect my own choices. Some rules I happen to agree with, and they are usually the more profound ones, like the ban on Unforgivable Curses. Some rules I disagree with, like the social pressure against and discrimination of the same-sex relationships. That, as you know, I have broken."

"Naturally," Dumbledore agreed, and went on after a while. "You've given this a lot thought lately, haven't you?"

"I had to," Cedric said. "I guess it's called growing up. You see, my parents, or at least my father, went ballistic when I sent them a letter where I told them about... told them that I like boys, one in particular, and please stop matchmaking me. He doesn't approve, at all, and is threatening to disinherit me."

"I know," Dumbledore said, rather flatly.

"Also," Cedric went on, not really registering what Dumbledore had said, "there's the legal question of Harry's age. As you probably know... Did... did you say you know? About my father?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I did. And I do owe you an apology for reading your private letter. You see, after the explosion, I had to find out what happened. It might have had something to do with whoever got Harry into the Tournament."

"I see," Cedric said, despite looking baffled. "Or... actually, I don't. How? I mean... I still have the letter. It's never been lost."

"Yes, well. It's possible to peek into the near past, if you know the necessary time-space Transformation spells," Dumbledore explained.

"To turn back time!" Cedric enthused. "By Transformation? Really?"

"It's seldom useful or worth the effort," Dumbledore said, "because it's really stressfull and quite dangerous, and gets exponentially harder the further you want to turn back time. I can only see fifteen minutes or so back. This time we got to the scene of destruction so soon after, I decided to try it. So we ended up reading your father's letter, professor McGonagall and I. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Cedric said. "I don't mind you knowing about it, nor McGonagall. I'll have to come out of the closet anyway, sooner or later."

"Thank you, Cedric," Dumbledore said gravely. "This _has_ been bothering me a bit."

The talk turned to the issue of coming out, and what difficulties Cedric could expect to face in the process. Dumbledore went on to tell him an anecdote about two older boys who were found out having an affair during his early schoolboy days. They had an awful lot of trouble because of it, but later in life, they ended up to become respected members of the Wizengamot, their relationship a known but politely ignored fact. And so the evening went on, Dumbledore directing their conversation into various themes ranging from Quidditch to music to social injustice and class systems, from blood purity to theories about the origins of magic, from childhood memories to Harry Potter and Cedric's love affair with him.

As the time drew on and the wine bottle emptied, it became less and less an interview of Cedric by the Headmaster, and more and more a sincere conversation between two intelligent men. Despite the vast difference in age and experience, they found that they agreed on many moral and philosophical questions, had a similar kind of humour, and enjoyed the intellectual sparring their conversation naturally seemed to gravitate towards. Of course, their point of views to almost any matter differed greatly, Cedric having most of his life ahead of him, and Dumbledore looking back at his long and eventful passage through the previous century and more. But most of the time, it only made the discussion more interesting.

During the course of the evening, their initial respect for each other turned into a much deeper understanding. In a lack of a better word, they became friends, or something like that. It was still tentative, of course, and obviously it wasn't the same kind of easy, laid-back friendship as can exist between two people of the same age and background, who are on an equal footing, but it was a kind of friendship nevertheless. More so than Cedric had had any reason to hope for and more or less like Dumbledore had anticipated.

- - -

There was a lengthy pause in the conversation, and suddenly Cedric woke to the fact that it must be very late. He checked the time from an ornate clock on a wall of the office. It was nearly two o'clock.

"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed. "I didn't realise how late it was. I think I should go and find the way to my bed."

"Before you go, Mr. Diggory, there's one more, and very important topic we should discuss." All the relaxed joviality and tipsiness had disappeared from Dumbledore's voice. It was strong and clear and serious. His return to the habit of using Cedric's last name only increased the sence of gravity in his words.

"By all means," Cedric consented. "What about?"

"I told you before we started that you could think of this as a job interview. I do have a position in mind for you, even if it's not, strictly speaking, a job..." Dumbledore paused for a moment, and went on, when Cedric didn't speak. "Have you ever heard about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No, sir," Cedric replied, glancing towards Fawkes. "I can't say that I have." Despite their fledgling friendship, he was, at the moment, acutely aware of their difference in rank, and felt 'sir' was appropriate.

"In the war against Voldemort," Dumbledore explained, "one of the main problems was to know who could be trusted. Voldemort had a lot of influence and his spies had infiltrated the Ministry, even the ranks of Aurors. Therefore I founded a secret society, if you like, to fight him. The idea was that what he didn't know of, he couldn't corrupt. That idea didn't exactly work, because I made one poor choice when selecting the members..."

"Peter Pettigrew," Cedric stated.

"Exactly," Dumbledore confirmed. "I see that Harry has informed you of the events that took place last year. Good. That makes things less complicated to explain. I take it then that you know both the true nature of Sirius Black,_ the notorious murderer,_ and about the betrayal that led to the untimely death of Harry's parents?"

"Yes, I do." Cedric answered. "I've even seen Padfoot, though very briefly."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore had raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I think he was checking me out," Cedric explained. "Harry told him about us, you see, or he guessed. I saw him near the Forbidden Forest."

"I see. Well, Sirius has never been overly cautious regarding his own safety," Dumbledore said. "Not that the Forest would pose any significant threat to him, but being seen is not a very sound idea for a fugitive. He doesn't really appreciate the danger he is in. And danger is a given for any member of the Order, if Harry's dream and some other sources are to prove themselves true."

"Do you really believe then," Cedric asked frowning, "that You-Know-Who is going to come back?"

"In a word: yes. I never really believed him dead in the first place," Dumbledore continued, "and there's mounting evidence pointing towards his imminent return. I hope that the evidence proves wrong, but I don't think so. And that's why I'm planning to revive the Order of the Phoenix... Would _you_ like to join, Mr. Diggory?"

"I... I might," Cedric answered, surprised, "but you haven't really explained yet what is it that the Order of the Phoenix does... How does it operate and so on? I'd like to know a bit more, first."

" A wise choice, that." Dumbledore smiled. "In short, the goal of the Order is to bring about the permanent downfall of Lord Voldemort. To achieve that, I'm considering to divide the task, and maybe even the Order, into three smaller branches: First one does guarding duty to keep Harry alive and well, the second is about intelligence, to find out everything we can about Voldemort, his past, his current whereabouts and his plans, and the third is operational, to hinder and prevent his plans whenever we can. None of the above are safe, and in all honesty, I must point out that only half of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix survived the first war."

"A rather sombering ratio, that..." Cedric said.

"Indeed." Dumbledore's voice was dry, but his face looked sad and old. "If Voldemort returns, being in the Order puts you in the first line of defence. That's why I only intend to recruit people who are of age, who really want to join, and who are capable of defending themselves. Younger students,_ including Harry, _are not to know anything about the Order, at least not yet. Neither is anyone who isn't already a member. In short; do not speak to _anyone_ about this conversation."

"No, sir," Cedric agreed. "Of course not."

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "By the way, I had you shortlisted as a possible member already, but I wasn't going to do anything about it yet. However, your special relationship to Harry makes it very important to prepare you for the possible perils and to keep you both from harm. You see, the Order is not solely a risk, but also a protection. We do have both special communication methods and rather good protective spells to safeguard our members. There are several aurors in our ranks, and the Order can provide training normally only available in the Auror Academy."

"I see." Cedric replied. "That does sound quite tempting. Now, how long can I mull over this? There's still the Tournament going on, and I'd like to concentrate on one thing at the time. Can I postpone my answer until the third task is over and done with?"

"My heart warns against it..." Dumbledore said seriously, "but I have to admit it's a reasonable request. You wouldn't have much time for extra training anyway, not when you're preparing for the task. All right, we'll discuss this further after that. At least you now have the Keystone beacons for additional safeguard."

"And that makes me sleep much better," Cedric said. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," Dumbledore said warmly.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" Cedric asked.

"You just did, didn't you?" Dumbledore said, amused. "Please do."

"Is Sirius a member? You implied before that he is. Can I ask him about the Order, too? What it is like?"

"All right, if you wish. I'll send him a note about you," Dumbledore said. "However, if you're going to spend several weeks with the information about the Order in your head, I'd like to apply some precautions. You see, I usually erase all the memories of the Order from the people who were asked to join but declined. For you, I'd like to put in place conditional tongue-tie and limphand curses to prevent you from speaking or writing anything about the Order of the Phoenix to an outsider. That is a standard procedure anyway, if you decide to join the Order."

"I see that you really meant a _secret_ society," Cedric said. "So, basically, I can choose either to have my memories erased or to get cursed?" There was a slight reproach in Cedric's voice.

"I know," Dumbledore said softly. "It's rather horrible what Voldemort gets us to do to fight him. During the first war I sometimes used to wonder if our side eventually turns just as ruthless as his, if the war goes on long enough. I still do. But without secrecy we can't beat him. And trust only goes so far. Last time, it was treachery that led to the murder of Harry's parents, and there are ways to torture anything out of people, even those who don't want to betray us. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I do understand the need," Cedric allowed. "I'll take the curses, thank you. My memories are precious to me. And you'll have my final answer after the third task, if not before."

They shook hands, solemnly. Then Dumbledore took out his wand and gave it a flick. A curious numb feeling passed through Cedrics tongue and both arms, leaving a slight tingling that slowly faded. They got up, and Cedric turned to leave.

"Good night, Headmaster," he said at the door.

"Good night, Cedric. And thank you for your time."

"You're welcome," Cedric replied. "It was an honour," he added, hand on the doorknob, and meant it, too. He was feeling very adult all of a sudden.

TO BE CONTINUED


	17. The Final Task

Hello everybody.

I bet you didn't expect this so soon, but I've decided to pamper you with another chapter hot on the heels of the previous one. And what a hot chapter, if I may say so myself...

Thanks a million to Raven Vianei for being my beta for this one.

;)

Takeo

WARNING - ADULT CONTENT

There's some sex in this chapter, and it's more graphic than in any of the previous ones. (Shocking, I know -winks-) I have updated the story rating to M accordingly. If you don't want to read, please don't. If you do, please enjoy!

UPDATE (Solstice 2009)

Had to fix this one, finally. This has been revised in many places, and I think it's loads better now. Thanks to Avalokannon for his input. Anyway, even if you read the original one, you might want to read this. I hope. It's longer, too, also in the strategic places...

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_In the end, the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament came upon us with frightening speed. I felt we hadn't covered nearly enough ground in our practise sessions for Harry to be ready to face the maze. I knew, of course, that it was exactly his cup of tea, since I had been with him, or at least in the fringes, during his adventures in our previous three years at Hogwarts. But still, I was all nerves and filled with a sense of foreboding, when the task started. Nothing supernatural, of course, just a combination of the present but unknown dangers and my own inadequacy. I felt I hadn't done enough, and what's more, I felt helpless, because I couldn't do anything more. Just sit on a spectator bench and watch, and wait. Ron tried to pretend it was just another sporting event, but I think deep down he felt something similar. When I finally gathered enough courage to take his hand in mine, he looked both surprised and inordinately pleased with himself, but later on, when the waiting started to get to us, he nearly crushed my fingers. Needless to say, I loved him all the more for it._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 17**

**The Final Task**

The sun was setting on the Hogwarts grounds. The Quidditch stadium was full of light and colour, but twilight was creeping up all around it. In the pit itself, the maze stood dark, ominous and imposing. Every last one of the seats were full of people, and banners of the schools were flying in the evening breeze. Magical trays filled with snacks, sweets and drinks were floating up and down the Quidditch stands, and no matter how many sweets were taken, the trays always refilled themselves. **There was a sense of a great festival all around.**

However, the evening wasn't all cheer and mirth; there were a few pockets of malcontent among the spectators. Ron and Hermione looked tired and worried, even though Ron went through all the motions of festive excitement. Amos Diggory looked bad-tempered and received all the compliments about his son with irritation rather than glowing pride. His wife Penelope looked sad, and seemed to have lost her usual interest in society small talk. She even ignored the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, when he came to congratulate the couple on their son's exellent performance in the Tournament. Elsewhere, Fred and George were wondering if the third task would turn out to be as 'interesting' to watch as the previous one.

In front of the entrance to the maze, the four Champions waited nervously, overshadowed by the boxes for the judges and other dignitaries. All the Hogwarts professors were present, naturally, as well as Igor Karkarof and Madame Maxime accompanied by their respective students. Quite a lot of Ministry people had arrived to watch the spectacle, including nearly the whole staff of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. To the Champions, it all seemed to be just too much of a distraction. They were trying to concentrate, to give their best, and the world was hurled in their faces. Even Fleur, who usually thrived in limelight, and Krum, who was used to it, looked like they'd rather be somewhere else. To Cedric the maze, despite its gloomy cave-like entrance and the ordeals it was hiding, started to look like a welcoming refuge instead of a potentially deathly obstacle.

Harry just wished the whole thing was over and done with.

- - -

It had been a busy day for Harry, even if he didn't need to do final exams this year, being a Tri-Wizard Champion. In the morning before the finals Hermione had had a sudden moment of inspiration about Rita Skeeter, but she had refused to tell about it to Ron and Harry. Skeeter's name was again on many lips, especially Slytherins', since she had written a defaming article about Harry in the day's Daily Prophet with the title 'Harry Potter - Disturbed and Dangerous!' For once, Harry didn't care. He had more pressing matters in his mind. Like last-minute revisions of the hexes he had been learning. During the breakfast professor McGonagall came to tell him to come to the next chamber, where families of the Champions had gathered to wish them good luck before the task. Harry thought about the Dursleys, knew they wouldn't have come, and even if they did, he didn't want to see them. So he decided to go to the library instead.

Harry was just about to leave the Great Hall, when Cedric popped his head out of the door to the side chamber and said: "Harry, come on. They are waiting for you."

Harry wondered who "they" might be, but he didn't have time to reach any conclusions. When he reached Cedric, the older boy glanced around and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder. All the other students had already gone to their finals, and the professors had left, too. The Great Hall was deserted, and the door to the side chamber covered them from that side.

"Listen, Harry," Cedric whispered urgently in his boyfriend's ear, "my parents are in there, and Dad's in a foul mood. I've never seen him like this. He may vent his temper on you, too. Please don't respond, or get angry. If he confronts you, just go away. He's my dad, so leave him to me. All right?"

"Yeah, okay. Good luck, Ced," Harry whispered back. "I love you."

"I love you, too, wonderboy," Cedric replied. He looked around again, and kissed Harry on the lips, quickly but passionately.

Cedric was just straightening up, his left arm still around Harry, when the chamber door behind him opened. Mrs. Weasley strode through the door, went to Harry's other side and gave him a fierce hug.

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said exitedly. "Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry."

She was quite loud, and several other people in the chamber turned to look and saw Cedric's arm around Harry, who was struck speechless. Cedric disentangled himself and went in, pretending nothing had happened. For the most part, it seemed to work. He saw though, or at least imagined that he saw, significant looks from the other Champions, both Viktor and Fleur. His parents were definitely looking at him disapprovingly.

It was Bill Weasley, however, who explained what most people were probably thinking. He punched Cedric lightly on the arm and said in a friendly manner: "Planning for the last minute strategy, eh, are you?"

"Just wishing him good luck," Cedric replied. "He's a good kid."

"He is that," Bill agreed. "And good luck to you, too, Diggory."

"Thanks," Cedric said, and went to face his parents.

Harry was left with beaming Molly and tall, long-haired Bill Weasley, who had a fang as an earring. While recovering from the near exposure of the moments before, it got through to Harry that the Weasleys had come to replace his nonexistent family. They had come to see him, to watch over him when he risked his life, like he was one of their own. It felt really good. So good, in fact, that he got a lump in his throat and had to keep silent for a little more to get the better of his emotions.

"You're all right?" asked Bill, grinning at Harry and shaking his hand. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were _incredible_ against the Horntail."

"Thanks," Harry managed to say. He couldn't think of anything else to talk about at the moment. He looked around, and noticed that Fleur was eyeing undeniably cool-looking Bill Weasley with an interested sparkle in her eyes. Harry could tell that she had no objection against long hair and earrings with fangs on them, the perpetual cause of arguments between Bill and Mrs. Weasley. Fleur's little sister Gabrielle waved at Harry, while Madam Delacour was speaking to Fleur in lively French. Harry waved back.

After some time of Bill and Molly remembering their school days in Hogwarts, the prominently hooked-nosed Krums and the Delacour family left the chamber, one after the other. Only Harry, the Weasleys and the Diggorys were left in the room. Harry couldn't help himself, and kept glancing towards Cedric and his parents, just to see how Cedric was coping. He shouldn't have, of course. One time Cedric looked back, their eyes met, and Harry smiled. Weasleys were chatting with a portrait on the chamber wall, and Cedric felt bold enough to wink at Harry, as an antidote to his parents. He shouldn't have, either. Harry felt his cheeks blushing, and his smile went wider, despite all the efforts to control it. He lowered his face and turned away, but it was too late already. There was an expression of a sudden comprehension on the face of Cedric's mother.

"Oh by Merlin!" Penelope breathed, barely audibly, so that only his husband and Cedric could hear her. "It's Harry Potter!"

Cedric paled to the colour of the finest white marble.

Mr. Diggory looked at his wife, exasperated, and said: "Of course it's the bloody Potter, he's the other Champion."

"No, Amos. Not only that. He's Cedric's... fling... Isn't he, Cedric?"

Amos Diggory threw a rather hostile look at Harry, and Penelope tugged his cloak to make him turn back. Cedric noticed that she didn't let go. It made him more confident, for some reason. Besides, he understood that once the idea was out there, denying the fact would be pointless. His mother was quite clever, and despite their disagreements, she did read Cedric very well. He'd have less chance than a snowball in hell if he tried to bluff his way out of this.

"Potter... " Amos Diggory said slowly, looking like he was tasting something sour.

"No," Cedric said to his mother, with a low but determined voice, "He's not a _fling._"

"You know what I mean," his mother said. "What do you want me to call him, then?"

"_Boyfriend_ would do nicely, mom," and now there was a plea in his voice. "Or just Harry, if an epithet isn't needed. But yes, I do know what you mean, and he is, I'm proud to say, my fella."

"Proud!" his father burst out, loud enough that the Weasleys turned to look at him.

"Shhh," Penelope hissed. " Keep you voice down, Amos."

"Proud?!?" Mr. Diggory repeated, incredulously but with considerably less volume. "By Merlin's dirty socks, how can you say such a thing? It's... disgusting, that's what it is! I'll ground you for a century, boy, if you don't stop this... unnatural talk at this very moment."

"No you won't," Cedric said, angry but still in control of himself. "You have no hold over me, Dad. I'm legally an adult, and I can do as I please. If you want to disinherit me, go ahead. But that's all you can do, and it won't help. I have nothing at home that I would miss a quarter as much as I would miss Harry."

"Harry Potter..." his father snarled through gritted teeth. "He ain't untouchable, that... that disturbed Potter boy. _He_ ain't an adult. I'll ruin him for... for _corrupting_ you. I'll have him expelled! See if I don't..."

"Dad, listen to me," Cedric pleaded, trying very hard to remain cool and reasonable. It helped that after his recent meeting with Dumbledore, he knew that the Headmaster was definitely on their side. "It's not Harry's fault that I'm gay. Nor it is mine, or mother's, or yours. _Nobody_ 'corrupted' me. I just am the way I am. I like boys, and that's that. Hurting Harry is not going to change me into something else. Besides, how could you do something so... mean and vengeful? I thought you a decent man!"

"Decent! What do _you_ know about decent?," Amos said, his face red with suppressed rage, "I'm your father! I order you to stop talking to me like that."

"No, Dad, those days are over," Cedric replied, shaking his head. "I'm a human being, not your puppet. And I've done nothing wrong. Until you can treat me and Harry in a civil manner, we have nothing to talk about. Goodbye!"

And with that, Cedric turned around and left the chamber. Mr. Diggory, still red-faced with fury, made a move to follow him, but his wife stopped him. Neither of them saw that Cedric had tears flowing down his cheeks before he even reached the door. Harry saw, and wondered how much the confrontation had cost him. Apart from a few louder words, Harry hadn't been able to make out Cedric's argument with his parents.

"Oh my," said Mrs. Weasley. "Cedric seems to be having a row with his parents. I wonder what he's done to upset them."

"Mom," Bill said. "It's none of our business."

"Not yours, no," Harry said. "But I have to go and see that Cedric's all right. I'll meet you at lunchtime in the entrance hall, okay?"

And without waiting for their answer, he bolted.

- - -

Later, after Cedric had stormed off and Amos Diggory had had time to cool his head a bit, Mrs. Diggory brought up again the subject of Cedric's orientation. The couple was walking around Hogwarts grounds near the lake, with huge old oaks scattered on a perfect lawn. Patches of sun and shadow were quilting the gentle green slopes with reshaping patterns. There was a slight breeze, and barely a cloud on the sky. A perfect summer afternoon. Mrs. Diggory had led her husband to this place because she had thought that the tranquility of the environment might make the conversation easier. So far, it hadn't really worked. Mr. Diggory was still planning to bring down Harry Potter, no matter what.

"Think, Amos!" Penelope said, "He's three years younger! Nobody would believe a fourteen-year-old to have seduced a seventeen-year-old. You can't go public with this. It wouldn't help at all. What's more, it would ruin Cedric's reputation forever."

"No more than what he deserves," Amos insisted angrily, "the ungrateful brat!"

"Amos, listen to me. He's our child, our only son. We can't abandon him just because he... because he loves... differently. You should know as well as I do, that it's not so uncommon. Most people just cover it up. But perhaps you really _don't_ _know,_ is that it? Do you _really_ think being gay doesn't happen in better families?"

"I have never seen any sign of this... this unnatural behaviour amongst our acquaintances," Mr. Diggory said, affronted.

"Amos, please!" Mrs. Diggory said in disbelief. "Can you really be so clueless that you believe, for instance, that the old queer, Lord Cartwheeler, has ever consummated his marriage to Eleanor? She's had at least a dozen young lovers in as many years, and some of them she has been sharing with her husband. None of their children are really his."

"But Penelope..."

"Not a word, Amos, until you have listened to what I have to say," his wife said sternly. "You were brought up in a very conservative family, where you never had to face these kind of things. Well, I wasn't. I have never told you about it, because I wanted to leave all that behind, to become as proper and decent a girl as you could ever have hoped for. Curiously, that was _my_ version of the youthful rebellion against my parents..."

"But _darling_, what..."

"Hush!" Penelope snapped. "I'm telling you something important, and you'd do wisely if you listened instead of interrupting me."

"I wasn't..."

"Silence!" Mrs. Diggory barked with such a commanding voice that her husband's jaw was left hanging open in amazement, and only after getting a pointed look from her, Mr. Diggory registered the fact and shut his mouth with a clack of teeth.

"Anyway," Penelope continued, "unlike I told you when we met, I do have a family, and they are a bunch of hippies, the flower children of the 60's. Even you must have heard about those. From since I was ten or so onward, I was brought up according to the principles of free love, sex and rock and roll. I hated it all at the time, but I do know a thing or two about alternative lifestyles. Being gay is not such a bad thing, all things considered. Cedric might be queer, but loving someone of his own sex is surely better than, say, being a Death Eater."

Amos Diggory, when he was finally given a chance to speak, wasn't capable of saying anything at all. Another important part of his carefully maintained world had just turned under his feet, and he was reeling from the shock.

- - -

When Harry caught up with Cedric, the latter was standing in front of the statue of the three gargoyles, which covered the entrance to the Lost Observatory. Without speaking, Harry took Cedric's hand in his own. Cedric uttered the required poem with a shaky voice, and the wall behind the statue dissolved. They went in and started to climb. Some time later when they reached the Observatory, Cedric headed straight to the balcony. They stood for a long time by the railing, just looking at the magnificent view of the mountains, fresh green valleys in between, and the tiny speck of Hogwarts somewhere far, far down.

In Harry's mind, the events of the schoolyear were lining up to form an elaborate tangle of scary possibilities. He couldn't help thinking that too many of the threads of his life seemed to come to a crucial turning point just today of all possible days. The tournament, obviously, but also the matter of Cedric's parents and even the malicious writings of Rita Skeeter and Hermione's plans of revenge. And behind all this, he imagined two background figures meeting in silent battle; Dumbledore with his protections for the school and Harry, and the dark unknown shape of someone, who had been pulling the strings behind the scenes all year. The past in the Pensieve and the occasional odd behaviour of Messieurs Crouch, Karkarof, Snape, and Moody, it was all connected somehow. Harry knew that there must be links and meanings that he couldn't fathom. Only one thing was certain; there was a terrifying sense of Destiny in all this, Harry thought, and the idea made him shiver. He didn't like to think about that.

"What happened?" Harry asked instead. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Mom figured us out," Cedric explained in a flat tone. "It was right after I winked at you... It was _incredibly_ stupid of me, and I'm supposed to be smart and all."

"And then?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly fun before that," Cedric replied, "but then Dad got really upset... He... he said he was going to get you expelled, among other things."

"And you?" Harry asked with a small voice.

"I told him to get stuffed, basically," Cedric told him slowly, wondering himself. "I was a bit more polite, though... I said he could disinherit me if he wanted, I wouldn't care. There's nothing at home that I would miss a quarter as much as I would miss you."

"You really said that?" Harry sounded astonished and utterly delighted. "To your father?"

"Yes, I did," Cedric confirmed. "And a bit more along the same lines. Then I had to leave, before I went to pieces. But Harry... why do you sound so happy about it?"

"You defended me, Cedric," Harry said, beaming. "You stood up to _your_ _own_ _father_ for me. I knew that you meant it when you said you loved me, but this... it's so much bigger than words. Nobody has ever made me feel this happy, this... wanted." Then he reached up his hand to tousle Cedric's hair and kissed his lips, which were, slowly, starting to smile.

"You're right, you know," Cedric said, when the magnitude of what he had done, and what it meant for their future, gradually dawned on him. "This _is_ a big deal. The worst is over, Harry, at least for me. They know about us now, and whatever happens next... that _makes us free_. And in just a couple of weeks you'll be old enough, and then we don't have to be afraid of the law, either."

"I know," Harry said, and grinned suddenly, grabbing Cedric's hand. "Come on in, we only have time until lunch."

"Time to do what?" Cedric wondered aloud, his mind slowly turning to decipher Harry's train of thought.

"To snog and cuddle," Harry said with a sparkle in his eyes. "You've earned that, at the very least. So let's break some laws, shall we?"

- - -

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Cedric were inside, making out on a pile of cushions. They were naked, hard, and eager. It had been nearly a week since their last time, and that had been just a hasty quickie in-between classes. Cedric had just climbed on top of Harry, after doing something wet and nice between his legs. They kissed, and Harry licked his lover's neck, tasting the salt on his skin.

"Cedric," Harry said a bit timidly, reaching for his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me," Harry whispered, his heart beating at a double rate. Saying it felt strange – too vulgar, maybe, and a bit cheap, but he still wanted to use that word. It wasn't even among his swear words of choice, and using it made the whole thing more tangible, somehow. To Harry, the F-word was a rite of passage. "I want you to."

Cedric moved, found Harry's eyes with his own, and asked: "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Harry confirmed nervously, lowering his eyes. "I'm afraid of it, a bit, but I do want you to... come into me."

"Wow. I'd love to, but..." Cedric hesitated between worry and elation. "Blimey, Harry! Are you... I mean... How come you changed your mind? I thought you were just joking out there, you know, about breaking the law."

"It's time," Harry said simply, and elaborated after a pause: "Everything's in flux now, you know, uncertain... The thing with your parents... and tonight's the third task, we don't know if we... if we both even survive to see tomorrow. I want to have experienced you inside me. I feel like... I just think it's time. I love you, and I want to have that memory, if everything goes badly."

"Harry..." Cedric was swept away by the strength of emotion in Harry's voice. He couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he kissed Harry, long and deep and breathlessly. "Gods, Harry," he said when the kiss ended, "I love you so much."

"Fuck me, then." Harry said, and grinned. This time he felt exhilarated about being so bold. "You said you know a spell that makes it really nice."

And Cedric crawled to their clothes for his wand. When he came back, he was harder than Harry ever remembered seeing him. His cock looked frightfully big, but also magnificent, and Harry wanted it more than anything.

"Lubricatum Masculinus," Cedric intoned with a flourish of his wand, and a glossy, transparent something enclosed his hard-on from the tip to the base. Harry couldn't really say what it was, it didn't look like any kind of substance, solid or liquid. Probably some kind of magical force field, he thought.

"Ooh, fancy!" Harry declared.

"It's a lubrication spell, and it's better than any lotion," Cedric explained.

Harry reached over and caressed Cedric's magically covered cock. It felt amazing. All the warmth and softness of the bare skin was there, but the friction was drastically reduced, like the skin was heavily oiled or covered in lotion. But it didn't feel oiled. It felt slick but not the least bit wet, or glossy like a highly polished stone, but soft – a delightful contradiction in itself. And somehow, the spell enhanced the sensitivity of the touch. Harry felt... more with his fingers than usually. A worrisome thought entered his mind.

"If the spell makes me feel more when I touch you," he asked, "then what about the pain? There's bound to be some..."

"Don't worry, love," Cedric said, smiling. "It only enhances the good feelings, while easing the unpleasant ones. Believe me, this spell is the best thing since ice cream."

"And how do you know that, exactly?" Harry asked mischievously.

"I've been around a bit, you know that," Cedric said, half amused, half irritated. "Before us, mind. And I've been... had, too, a couple of times. That's when I was taught the spell."

"And who, if you don't mind me asking," Harry asked, "did all that teaching and having?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Cedric asked, suddenly serious.

"Yes, if it's someone nice." Harry's tone made it clear that he was having fun. "Might even turn me on, for all you know..."

"It was... Ollie, if you must know..." Cedric confessed after a brief silence. He was looking away, unsure of Harry's reaction, "Oliver Wood. We were in a Quidditch summer camp together a couple of years back..."

"And you tried ice cream, too?" Harry couldn't help himself. He was nervous, and it made him say silly things. However, the idea of hunky Oliver Wood shagging his lean and beautiful Cedric was, in fact, a great turn-on.

"Strawberry or Vanilla?" Cedric asked, mock serious. Then he looked at Harry and his face broke into a huge grin. Harry giggled, and things escalated from there. Soon they were in a helpless heap, laughing themselves silly.

That broke the tension. When the hilarity subsided, they were relaxed and at ease again. They started kissing, and soon both were hard and ready. Cedric got between Harry's legs again, kissed him once more, sat up and positioned himself.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, still hesitant.

"Yes," Harry breathed, and tried to relax.

Cedric took hold of one of Harry's legs, put it on his shoulder, turned him a bit sideways on the bedding, adjusted himself, and gently pushed. After a couple of tries, his cock slid halfway into Harry, who inhaled sharply, expecting pain. Which, by and large, didn't come. There was a mild stinging sensation, and at first an uncomfortable feeling of being stretched, but that was it. After a few moments of letting Harry to get used to it, Cedric pushed forward. This time he went in completely, and Harry gasped. Cedric's cock had touched something inside him, something pleasurable. Something really, really good.

Cedric started to move. Harry moaned. And gasped. And swore out of suprised delight. He started to meet Cedric's thrusts. The spell-enhanced feeling of being gently invaded was indescribable. Cedric grabbed Harry's cock and started to stroke him in the pulse of their mating, which made everything even more intense. Harry had seldom imagined and never really believed that getting fucked would be this good. They moved in unison, moaning and sweating, their breathing growing more and more ragged. Not very much later, Harry felt he couldn't take it any more.

"I'm... about... to come..." he panted.

"I know." Cedric managed to answer between the strokes. "Me... too."

"Come... inside," Harry gasped, but Cedric was beyond the point of coherent speech. He thrusted as deep as possible and tensed rigid, moaning loudly, his body quivering against Harry as he came. He'd let go of Harry's cock a while ago. Now, without even touching himself, Harry felt his own orgasm kicking in. It became an infinite, scorching blaze of unprecedented joy. The pleasure transcended his body somehow; it felt too intense to have anything to do with muscles or nerves or bodies, even though he still sensed Cedric's body writhing next to and partly inside of him. After a small eternity, when the rapture subsided, it left Harry feeling almost liquidly relaxed, covered with splashes of cum and Cedric's heaving body.

"Oh... my... God!" Harry panted. "That was amazing!"

"Yeah, it's... wow!" Cedric said, still somewhat incoherently. Then again, his brain had stopped working a good while ago, and was just regaining its proverbial feet.

After a brief rest, they did it again. They were young, after all, and intoxicated with this new aspect of their love for each other. Harry wanted to try riding on top, which enabled him to control the rhythm of their lovemaking. His pace was slower than their first time, and more sensuous. When he raised and lowered his body on Cedric's, he kept looking at his lover's face, learning how his movements made Cedric react. Moving like... this... elicited a gasp, or... that way, and Cedric arched up to meet him with a delicious show of muscles flexing under the smooth skin. Of course, Harry was also learning how his own body reacted to Cedric, too. When Cedric reached up to touch his nipple, the fondle caused his lower body to tense, making them both moan in delight. Harry was almost painfully hard, and the slow pace was becoming a sort of a sweet torture; every little movement felt like myriads of joyful notes coming together to make a symphony of pleasure. He felt like his sense of touch was being multiplied now when he was almost solely concentrating on it. Through his bliss Harry noticed Cedric smiling, and looked into his eyes, green into grey, emerald into silver, and the force of the connection nearly made Harry cry with joy, filling him to the brim with emotion. The world stopped, and so did Harry. He loved this boy... this vibrant, radiant man, more than he had ever thought possible. For a long time they remained poised in this perfect balance, just breathing together, feeling almost like melting into a single being, their hard cocks pulsing ever so slightly with their heartbeats.

Then, suddenly, Cedric raised himself up in one fluid motion, his lips coming to meet Harry's. He kissed Harry hungrily, reigniting his need for rhythm and movement, for the eternal dance of oblivion and restoration. And Cedric happily obliged, flipping him over onto his back and thrusting into him. But then, unexpectedly, he straightened up and pulled out.

"Turn over, Harry," Cedric said huskily, answering a question in Harry's eyes. When Harry did, Cedric pulled him up against his chest, nibbled at his earlobe and entered him once more.

And while Harry loved watching Cedric when they made love, not seeing him was also exiting, in a different, more animalistic way. Cedric was tall enough for them to kiss quite easily when Harry turned his head, but even more Harry loved it when Cedric kissed and gently bit his neck. The feeling of his lover's teeth gracing his sensitive skin woke some deep-seated sense of danger and submission which, combined with getting fucked, was such a turn-on that Harry almost felt ashamed of the strength of his lust. A good thing, he thought, that Cedric couldn't see his face.

It wouldn't have mattered though. Cedric was equally carried away with similar feelings, and in the throes of passion, he took the skin at the back of Harry's neck in his teeth and growled, like a panther in heat. At the same time Harry felt Cedric climaxing inside him, and the growl changed into ecstatic moans. The sound sent Harry over the edge, too. He tried to resist, to prolong the moment, but found out he couldn't. Harry arched his back, and surfing on the subsiding downwave of his own orgasm, Cedric pulled him up against his body and took hold of his cock. For a while they wavered there, Harry shooting all over the place and Cedric enjoying his every spasm, moan and breath. Then their legs gave way, and they collapsed into a boneless heap of satisfied lust. For several minutes, they just laid where they had fallen, and then slowly entangled and looked at each other with face-splitting grins.

"Forget the ice cream, mate," Harry said after getting his breath back . "That was the best thing ever!" He paused for a while, and asked innocently, "Now, how about a threesome with Oliver?"

"Harry!" Cedric exclaimed, delighted and shocked by equal measures, "You naughty boy! Am I not man enough for you?"

"I was only teasing," Harry said, and now it was his turn to turn serious, "You're more than I ever imagined having, and you know that. And I love teasing you with embarrassing things, it's still so new to me... Oliver, though, he must really know his moves, you know?"

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this Ollie thing, am I?" Cedric asked ruefully.

"Never," Harry grinned, and kissed him.

- - -

Half a day later Harry and Cedric were nervously listening to Dumbledore's magically amplified voice echoing around the Quidditch pitch. The Headmaster welcomed the guests to Hogwarts and told a short but rather amusing version of the history of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He then proceeded to acknowledge the four Guardians: Hagrid and the professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Moody. Their job would be to patrol the outer perimeter of the maze and help out Champions who were forced to remove themselves from the competition. Finally Dumbledore started to describe the challenge of the day.

"As you can see," Dumbledore said, "we have grown a maze here in our Quidditch Stadium. The Tri-Wizard Cup is in the center of this maze, and the task is to reach it. Whoever of the four Champions reaches the Cup first, wins the Tournament. The Cup has, for today, been transformed into a Portkey, which promptly delivers the winner back here to the starting point for the appropriate winning ceremonies... The arrangements for the inappropriate ones I leave to the friends and classmates of the winner. Needless to say, before reaching the Cup, the Champions will have to overcome different obstacles on their way. Of them, I shall say no more. You shall see them for yourself, once the task begins."

When Dumbledore paused, professor Flitwick raised his wand and waved it like the conductor of a symphony orchestra. Four immense, iridescent bubbles formed above the maze, arranged in a straight line along the long axis of the pitch. They seemed to be full of thin silvery mist. When the excited murmur of the crowd died away, Dumbledore continued.

"In all the important places of the maze," he said, "we have positioned fairies, who will see what's happening in their surroundings. Courtesy of our indispensable professor Flitwick, what the fairies see is magically projected to the bubbles above the maze whenever a Champion is in the vicinity. There's a bubble for each Champion. When a contestant is out of sight of the fairies, his or her bubble remains blank, otherwise we shall all see what's happening to them inside. Champions, please enter the gate area!"

Fleur, Krum, Cedric and Harry walked forward to a marked area in front of the entrance gate. One by one, the bubbles came alive with giant projections of the four of them. The crowd exploded into thunderous applauds, especially those who had been bored half to death by the second task. On the Gryffindor stand, Fred and George hooted like madmen and started a mexican wave chanting Flitwick's name. He had always been their favourite professor, anyway.

When the noise levels had come back down a bit, Dumbledore gave way to Ludo Bagman, who announced the standing and points of each Champion, and how the points were to be translated into starting delays. Since Harry and Cedric tied in the first place, they were to go into the maze first, together, then Krum and finally Fleur.

At last, it was time. Harry's stomach was suddenly full of butterflies. Cedric looked determined, but there was a sheen of cold sweat on his brow. The gate looked like a black hole cut into the hedge, it was so dark in between the shrubbery walls. There was a loud whistle, the starting signal. Side by side, Harry and Cedric walked through the gate.

The maze swallowed them into the darkness.

TO BE CONTINUED


	18. The Maze And The Manor

Hi there!

Life. Don't talk to me about life... It takes so much time that I find myself constantly deprived of quality Potter-time. Hence the abysmally long wait for this chapter. I'm quite astonished that you all haven't given up on me completely. So thank you for that, and I hope you'll enjoy this, even if the main shape of the events must be quite familiar to all GoF fans out there.

Love you, and thanks a lot for the reviews etc.

:)

Takeo

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Fear, my friends, is a terrible thing. Professor Lupin once said that Harry was wise to fear Dementors more than Voldemort, because to fear Dementors is to fear the fear itself. There's nothing worse than fear, when there's enough of it. It can grip your heart with ice-cold talons more terrible than those of a dragon, or rend your mind with teeth sharper than knives. It has the power to reduce capable wizards and witches into so much of useless baggage. Or make them panic. Neither are good options. When you're afraid of loosing the ones you love, it's enough to incapacitate anybody. Well, almost anybody._

_Some people say that Harry is fearless. They're wrong. Harry has a big heart, and he loves unconditionally. And where there's love and a danger, there's fear. Harry is brave, but he can be as terrified as the next wizard. And of course, he had to face things that made even his valiant Gryffindor blood curdle. Yes, Harry Potter does know fear, intimately. What makes him different is his ability to act despite of it. He, more than anyone else I have ever seen in a bad spot, raises above his fear, like a surfer raises on top of a towering wave and rides it. Fear doesn't make him slower or more unreliable, but faster, smarter and more capable. It really is quite impressive._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 18**

**The Maze And the Manor**

The figure of Alastor Moody was creeping along the outer edge of the maze. He had a piece of parchment in one hand and a wand in the other. Occasionally he consulted the Marauder's Map, for that's what the parchment was. After some minutes of a slow advance along the hedge, he seemed to come to a decision, put the map in his pocket and pointed the wand towards the hedge, which opened immediately, allowing him through. He continued along the passage where he had ended up, and took the first turn right. In front of him, just twenty feet further, was Viktor Krum, his back turned.

"Imperio!" Mad-Eye snarled. The unforgivable curse hit Krum straight at the back.

"Turn around," Moody ordered and, like a puppet, Krum did so.

"Now," Mad-Eye said in a low but commading voice, "I have a new task for you: Find Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory, in that order. Make sure you catch them in a spot with no fairies in sight. Torture the Delacour bitch with Crucio, until she's unconscious, then wipe her memory and send up the red sparks. If she's about to escape, kill her. As for the Diggory boy..."

While Moody had been talking, the vacant expression on Krum's face had gradually changed into one of internal struggle. When Mad-Eye got to the killing part, something snapped inside him, and he looked like himself again, except furious with rage. "No!" he shouted vehemently, "I won't, you monster!"

But even that was too much talk. Moody's wand swished in the air. "Levicorpus!" he shouted, and "Accio wand!" right after that. Viktor Krum was hoisted upside down, like there was an invisible rope tied to his feet, and his wand spun in the air, ending up in Moody's hand.

"Fighting my curse, are you, you miserable whelp?" Moody snarled. He walked to Krum, who was trying to get down to the ground. It was a futile effort. When Mad-Eye got close enough, he raised his fist and with the whole of his considerable bulk behind the punch, hit Krum's upside down head like a boxer punches a sack. It was a vicious blow, swinging Krum's head back and forth in a whiplash motion. He went limp, and Moody released his victim from the levitation spell. Krum landed bonelessly onto the mercifully soft ground, his clothes and limbs forming a haphazard frame around his body. His head rested against his shoulder, mouth lolling open.

"Luckily," the madman wearing Moody's appearance said, talking to the unconscious Krum, "I came prepared, in case you proved headstrong. That old bat Snape has the most useful Potions in his stores. When I raided his office, I found this..." He took out a small bottle of black substance, unstoppered it and measured three drops into Krums mouth. "It's called Apathonic, and it will disconnect your will. After this, a child with a stick could make you run his errands. Now, wake up, scumbag."

Moody alias Barty Crouch Jr. invigorated Viktor Krum with a spell and Imperiused him once more. Only this time, Krum didn't, _couldn't_ fight back because of the potion. After receiving his instructions, his wand, and the Marauder's Map to guide him, Krum trod off to fulfill his evil mission. Mad-Eye had told him how to use the Map, and ordered him to close it after dealing with Cedric.

When Krum had disappeared from view, Moody didn't return to his patrolling. Instead, he headed towards the center of the maze, taking a shortcut through a hedge when necessary. Soon, he arrived at the Triwizard Cup. He summoned all the fairies stationed near the prize. When they were gathered close enough to each other, he petrified and blinded them with two spells encompassing the whole gathering. In the end, he hid them all under the hedges. By the order of the Dark Lord, nobody was to see Harry Potter taking the Cup.

- - -

Previously, Harry and Cedric had started their journey into the maze together, wands ignited with _Lumos_ to expel the deep gloom between the hedges.

"Harry," Cedric had said after a bit of walking, "should we pair up and go together?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Harry had replied, but his voice had been trembling a bit. The uneventful darkness had been starting to grate on his nerves. "Don't worry. Besides, I think it's against the rules."

"Bugger the rules, Harry," Cedric had blurted out. "I just want to see you safely through this."

"I know," Harry had countered, "but you can't. Remember the fairies?"

"Oh, right. Dammit!"

They had arrived at the first crossing and looked left and right. In both directions the corridors soon turned again. There had been no fairies in sight.

"Okay," Harry had said. "I guess this is it. Which one do you want?"

"Left, if it's all the same to you," Cedric had answered. "Look, just be careful, okay?"

"And you be fast, smart and ferocious, okay?" Harry had asked in turn. "If there are some beasts in here, I don't want to catch you talking to them politely."

"All right, love," Cedric had promised, smiling. "Come here."

They had hugged tightly, kissed once and separated. For a long moment they had stood a few feet apart and just looked at each other, then finally turned and run off along their respective corridors. It had felt awful.

- - -

The audience got to see quite a lot of action, this time. They saw Cedric running into a blast-ended skrewt and just barely managing to get away, and Harry producing a magnificent Patronus when facing a boggart pretending to be a Dementor. Fleur wowed the crowd with fiery attack spells when she came across a nest of dog-sized spiders (although Ron muttered to Hermione that dog-sized was nothing compared to the _really_ big ones). Krum faced a hippogrif, which did let him pass after he greeted it correctly with a bow and a steady look in the eyes. Harry walked into an odd sort of mist, and was suddenly floating upside down, feet to the sky, and froze. It didn't look like he was hanging from his feet, but rather that the gravity had suddenly flipped around when he was concerned. The audience had just enough time to ponder what to do in his shoes, when Harry calmly stepped forward and flipped back to normal, his feet on the firm ground once more. The mist was just an illusion, yet another test of nerve.

But obviously there were real dangers in the maze, too. Not too much later, there was a fountain of red sparks, which meant that one of the champions had been forced to abort the task. Maddeningly for the audience, all the floating view bubbles were empty at the moment, so they didn't know which of the contestants had failed.

- - -

Krum was finished with Fleur, and moved girl had been lucky, in a sense; she had been hit with the Cruciatus curse while walking, lost her footing, fallen down and hit her head to a massive gnarled root of the hedge badly enough to render her unconcious. And that, in turn, had literally fulfilled the orders Krum had received from Moody. If he had indeed tortured her into unconciousness, it would probably had made lasting damage to her beautiful brain, unlike a simple bruise on the temple.

In any case, Krum was now tracking Cedric, his second intended victim, through the twists and turns of the labyrinth. Unlike Moody, he wasn't a Guardian and didn't know the spells to clear the hedges from his path, so he had to follow the routes allowed by the maze. And that meant, even with the map, that finding someone was easier said than done. Moreover, whenever the fairies were in sight, he had to hide the map in his robes to avoid rousing suspicions in the undoubtedly avid audience. Naturally, these minor hindrances paled compared to the obstacles set up for the task, the most notable being yet another vicious blast-ended skrewt and a rather alarming passage where the hedges grew fast, tentacle-like shoots which reacted to movement and tried to catch and strangle anyone walking past. The first Krum managed to stun for long enough to get out of sight but the second was trickier. In the end, he succeeded in the obscure and seldom useful Slickball spell, which made him ooze slime so slippery the shoots couldn't reel him in.

All these little adventures took time, which meant that Viktor Krum only caught up with Cedric quite near to the center of the maze. He succeeded in sneaking to a close range behind Cedric's back, but just when he was ready to cast his curse, several things happened in rapid succession. Krum's foot met a hollow in the otherwise smooth ground and he stumbled a bit. But even before he let out a sharp breath of surprise, something alerted Cedric and he started to turn. When his eyes met the ominous sight of a raised wand in Krum's hand, Cedric moved like a lightning, throwing himself aside from the path of the Krum's first, silent curse.

"What are you doing!" yelled Cedric, raising himself from the ground. "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"Crucio!" Krum shouted, and the air was suddenly full of Cedric's yells of agony. For a while, he twitched and jerked on the ground where he'd fallen again, shouting in pain. Then there was a rustling sound of something forcing it's way through a hedge, and a moment later Harry Potter appeared, eyes ablaze with fury and wand raised. Krum's ordered victims didn't include Harry, quite contrary, since the fake Mad-Eye had explicitly told him not to hurt Harry. Krum only had one option. He turned and run, but despite being a world-class seeker, he wasn't fast enough.

"Stupefy!"

Harry's spell hit the retreating back of Viktor Krum, who fell forward and lay motionless on the ground. Harry hastened to Cedric's side, eyes dark with concern.

"Are you all right!" Harry said, grabbing Cedric's arm.

"Yeah... Yeah. I can't believe it! He crept up behind me, I heard him. I turned around, and he had his wand on me!"

Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry looked down at Krum.

"I don't believe this!" Harry said, staring at Krum. "I thought he was all right!"

"So did I," said Cedric.

"Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?" said Harry.

"Yeah," Cedric said. "You didn't think Krum got her, too?

"I don't know," said Harry, slowly.

"Should we leave him here?" Cedric muttered.

"No," said Harry. "I reckon we should send up red sparks, someone'll come and collect him. Otherwise he'll propably be eaten by a skrewt."

"He'd deserve it..." Cedric muttered. But all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks high up into the dark sky, marking the spot where Krum lay.

"Well, I suppose we'd better go on," Cedric said, "you know, on our separate ways."

"What?" Harry said, "Oh, yeah, right."

It was an odd moment. For a brief time he and Cedric had been reunited against Krum, and Harry had forgotten all about the ongoing task. Now the fact that the world might be watching came back to him, and he suppressed his urge to hug and comfort Cedric, who must have been shaken by Krum's attack.

Slowly, they proceeded up the dark path, glancing at each other every now and then, until they came to the next crossing, where Harry turned left, and Cedric right. In Harry's anxious ears, Cedric's footsteps soon died away.

- - -

Only five minutes later, Harry came face to face with maybe the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. She had a a body of a lioness, but in place of a beast's head she had a face of a woman. And not just any woman, but one of a serene, ageless and mysterious beauty. She was wearing an Egyptian head-piece and a magnificent broad necklace of gold and precious stones. Her eyes were almond-shaped and features full of personality. There were faint crow's feet of laughter in the corners of her eyes, but her countenance spoke more of wisdom than hilarity. When Harry looked in her eyes, instead of whites, irises and pupils of a human eye he saw purest, beepest black imaginable. In the featureless blackness floated tiny specs of light, more in the center where pupils would have been. Harry felt like he was looking into the deep space of faraway galaxies, filled with myriads of distant stars and unimaginable mysteries.

"What do you seek, Harry Potter?" the sfinx asked. Her voice was a wonderful melodious alto, but with a deeper, more resonant rumble than in any woman's voice. It sent shivers running along Harry's spine, and he couldn't help wondering what she would sound when roaring.

"The Tri-Wizard Cup, at the moment," Harry replied, after a nervous swallow.

"Fair enough," the sfinx said, smiling slightly. "The shortest path to the Cup lies behind me.

"Will you let me pass, then?" Harry asked, "Please..."

"No."

"Okay," Harry said, acting bolder than he felt, "How does this work, then?"

"I'll ask you three questions, Harry," the sfinx answered, "and if you give me true answers, I'll let you pass. If you don't want to answer, you can walk away and try another route. If your answer is dishonest, I'll attack." During the last words, Harry saw, or imagined seeing a head of a fierce lioness glimpsing through her human face. After that, he harboured no illusions of overcoming the attack, if things would come to that. He hoped fervently that they wouldn't.

"All right," Harry said, "Could I hear the first question, please?"

"Who do you love the most?" the sfinx asked.

That's easy, Harry thought, and he was just on the verge of answering, when he remembered the fairies. He glanced around and sure enough, spotted at least half a dozen of them hanging on the branches of the nearest hedges.

"Do you mind if I make this a private conversation?" Harry inquired.

"Not at all," the sfinx said. "I love keeping secrets."

Harry took out his wand, waved it and said "Muffliato." This was one of the spells he had learned from Cedric, and it filled the ears of possible listeners with a undecipherable buzz, so that they couldn't make out what was being said. It also made the acoustics different for the people who were within the spell's protection, like they were inside an echoless chamber, where sounds died almost instantly.

"I..." Harry started into this new silence, thought about lip-reading and waved his wand once more. "Obstructo," he said this time, and a rippling sphere appeared around them. It looked like a disturbed surface of a pond in rain, except there was no rain, and it hung impossibly in the air. It was transparent, so you could see through it, but all the fine details were distorted by the rippling surface. It was the visual sibling spell of Muffliato, one he also learned from Cedric.

"I love..." Harry said, hesitated for a moment and went on, "...Cedric Diggory." The confession made him blush slightly, and he felt his ears growing hot. He was not used to stating the fact aloud, especially when he knew he was being watched. He hoped of course, that his protections were enough, but what did he know about fairies and their abilities. Not enough. He only ever read the summary of that particular chapter of in his Care of Magical Creatures book.

"I know," the sfinx said, smiling more warmly now, and somehow Harry realised that his words had transmitted not only their surface meaning to her, but everything Cedric meant to him, Harry. Cedric's name had carried with it all his memories of Cedric, and suddenly Harry felt completely, terrifyingly naked. And he blushed furiously, thinking about the more explicit memories he had of Cedric. Speaking to a sfinx, it seemed, made you reveal your true self. But then, despite his mortification Harry forced himself to look at the creature before him, and seeing her eyes made him feel better. There was no judgement in those eternal eyes, only acknowledgment.

"What is your deepest fear?" the sfinx asked next.

Harry opened his mouth to tell it was the Dementors that he feared most, but thought better of it. They might be his biggest fear, but not the deepest. He feared the Dementors because they made him experience all the tragedies of his life all over again, but he already had survived those horrors. Moreover, he knew now that he could protect himself from them with his stag patronus. No, there was another, even more deep-seated fear living in Harry's heart; the reason he so detested Malfoy and Snape, and still was an easy pray for their taunting.

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Harry said in a small voice, "and I fear I might turn into a monster... like _him_, like Tom Riddle turning into Voldemort."

"Don't worry, little one," the sfinx answered. "Dumbledore is right. In the end, it's our choices that define who we are. You chose Gryffindor. Your kind, brave heart will guide you. Just listen to it."

"Okay," Harry said, "I'll try."

"Why do you want the Tri-Wizard Cup?" the sfinx asked finally.

"I don't," Harry answered without thinking, "not really. I mean... I didn't enter myself into the Tournament. It would be nice of course to win, after getting this far, but it's so much more important to get Cedric, and myself too, through the last task alive and well. I just want to be with him really, with the Tournament safely behind us."

"You have been honest with your Love, Fear and Intentions, Harry Potter, and therefore I shall let you pass. Good Luck."

And with that, the sfinx got up, stretched her legs in sensous movements like a cat would do, and stepped aside, leaving the path forward free. Harry nodded gravely to the creature, walked past her, and then hesitated for a moment.

"Do you..." he said, looking back at the sfinx, "do you mind telling me your name. I'd like to know who you are."

"Name is but a tag, Harry Potter," the sfinx said. "What we do defines who we are. I was there when Kleopatra took her throne, and when Akhenaton tried to remake Egypt. I am ancient, but forever young. I have worn dozens of names during the centuries. What do I care what I am called? Yet, a name carries a curious kind of power. We sfinxes don't easily share our true names..."

"As you wish." Harry said, bowing slightly. "Goodbye, and thank you."

"Wait," ordered the sfinx, sidled up to him and reached up to his ear. "To you, I am Onyx," it purred into Harry's ear, sending a shiver down his spine again. "It was very nice to meet you, Harry Potter," she continued and, quite unexpectedly, kissed and nibbled his earlobe.

"I..." Harry said, his voice breaking embarassingly, "I hope we'll meet again, some day." To his astonishment, he realised the purr and the nibble had caused him to sport a rather formidable hard-on. During their conversation he had had no reason to expect the palpable force of sensuality the sfinx was emanating at the moment.

"So do I. Fare thee well," said Onyx, "And don't forget to dispel your spells."

"Oh," said Harry sheepishly. "I did, didn't I." And he took out his wand again, waved it, and the veil around them dispersed and sounds returned to normal. Harry took one last look at the beautiful sfinx and loped off.

- - -

A while later, Harry turned yet another corner of the maze, and there it was, finally. The Tri-Wizard Cup was gleaming on a stone pedestal at the end of the corridor. Harry started to run. He couldn't wait for the task to be over, at last. But then, a dark figure sprinted from a side corridor, also running towards the Cup. Someone taller than Harry with longer legs, someone who was ahead of him and was running faster than Harry. He had no chance of beating the other runner to the Cup. Then again, it didn't matter. It was Cedric, and Harry would gladly let him win. Winning the tournament would be the kind of glory the Hufflepuff House hadn't had for decades, if not for centuries.

Harry slowed his pace down to a trot. Despite being happy for Cedric, he couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment. The Cup looked glorious, and it would have been so nice to receive all the adoration that came with it, instead of the taunts and snide remarks he had got to put up with during the schoolyear. He felt it calling somehow, beckoning him with promises of eternal glory, success, jubilations and universal approval into the inner circles of money and power. It was as if the Cup was alive. In fact, it awoke something in Harry that reminded him of the evil enchantments of the Tom Riddle's diary.

Then his trot and his thoughts were disturbed by something immense he heard and dimly saw approaching through the hedge on the left. It was going to reach the last crossing before the center of the maze just as Cedric did. They were going to collapse!

"Cedric!" Harry shouted a warning, "On your left!"

Cedric looked to his left and hurled himself to the other side of the crossroads just avoiding the legs of the giant spider, which the immense creature turned out to be. Cedric tripped in the process however, and his wand was thrown a couple of meters further along the path. He wasn't going to make it before the spider hit.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, taking aim at the beast. He hit it all right, but the spider was either too large or too magical for the spell to do any real harm. But it did make the spider turn around and advance on Harry instead of Cedric, giving the latter a chance to get his wand back.

Alarmed, Harry tried to stun the spider again, and when that failed he tried Impedimenta and some other spells. None of them did any harm to the spider, but only seemed to aggravate it even more. When the beast reached Harry, he only had time to glimpse snapping pincers as sharp as knives, and eight shiny, malevolent eyes. Then he was lifted with two of the monster's legs, and since he couldn't think of anything more useful in his panic, he kicked with all his might. His leg exploded in excruciating pain. He had hit the dagger-like pincers. The notion of the pincers as weapons gave him an idea, though.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.

It worked. The disarming spell actually dislodged the pair of pincers attached to the spider's front legs. Unfortunately, that meant a drop of twelwe feet for Harry, and he landed badly on his wounded leg. His foot crumpled under his weight. The monster loomed impossibly big above him. But now Harry saw that it's underbelly was pale and unprotected, and he aimed his wand straight at it. In his peripheral vision behind the tangle of spider legs he saw Cedric aiming his wand at the same time.

"Stupefy!" they both yelled. Two spells at the underbelly did what one alone couldn't. The spider keeled over sideways. Had it fallen forward, it would have flattened Harry.

"Harry! You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"No." Harry answered surly. His leg was bleeding badly. Near the wound there was some gooey secretion from the monster, but he couldn't see any on the wound. Harry cleared the sticky stuff away with a spell. He didn't know any healing spells though, which seemed like an enormous and possibly fatal gap in his education right now. Then he looked at Cedric across the body of the spider.

"Take it then," Harry said. "Go on. Take it. You're there."

Cedric merely stood there, looking at Harry. Then he gave the Cup a longing look, which seemed to go on forever. Finally Cedric looked around again at Harry, who was holding his bleeding leg.

"You take it," Cedric said. "You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said. "The one who reaches the Cup first gets the point. That's you. I'm telling you, I'm not going to win any races on this leg."

"No." Cedric refused.

"Stop being noble," Harry insisted. "Just take it. Then we can both get out of here."

"You told me about the dragons," Cedric said mulishly.

"You helped me with the egg," Harry countered, not remembering the fairies, which Cedric also seemed to have forgotten. He was also being stupidly stubborn, and Harry was getting angry, his leg hurting like hell. "We're square," he blurted out. "Just take the Cup!"

"No!" Cedric refused again. "You take it." He was obviously serious, standing there with a deep frown on his face and arms crossed like he was fortifying himself against the temptation. Because there was no doubt that this was a temptation like few others. Now that they were so close to it, Harry felt whatever spell embedded into the Cup tugging his will towards it, calling seductively with visions of unadulterated success.

"Go on," Cedric said. It looked like it was costing him a lot, but his face was set. Cedric was decided. He was turning down the eternal glory for Harry's benefit.

For a while, Harry let his mind dive into the promises the Cup was whispering. He saw himself emerging from the maze holding the Cup, the youngest winner in the history of the tri-Wizard Tournament. He saw hot boys and girls alike vying for his attention. He saw himself as Head Boy, which was odd, because he had never coveted the position. He glimpsed himself becoming the Quidditch champion of the World. Then with considerable effort he teared his eyes off the prize and turned to look back at Cedric. Unlike the phantoms of glory Cedric looked real. Harry knew which reward he preferred.

"Both of us," Harry said. "We'll take it at the same time. We'll tie for it."

Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. "You're sure?"

"We've helped each other out. Let's just take it together."

A wide, affectionate grin spread on Cedric's face. "You're on," he said, "Come here!" He grabbed Harry's arm and helped him to the plinth where the Cup rested. Up close it looked magnificent.

"On three, right," said Harry. Cedric nodded, and on three, they both grasped a handle. It felt like invisible hooks were attached to their navels, and then something yanked at the equally invisible ropes, hard. Their feet left the groung, which disappeared in a murky swirl of darkness. Harry and Cedric flew away in a whirlwind of dim colours and shadowy movement, magical wind tugging at their robes and flying their hair wildly. The Cup was a portkey.

- - -

Some considerable time later, the howling wind of magic that carried Harry, Cedric and the portkey to its destination, died out and dumped them unceremoniusly to the ground. They let go of the Cup, Cedric got to his feet and they both looked around. The place looked like a graveyard with a jumble of ancient stones and crosses scattered on a overgrown lawn. Once it might have been orderly and well tended, but now there were weeds, vines and small bushes growing all over the graves. The weather was foggy, so even if the graveyard was better lit than the maze they had left from, it was still gloomy, and the fog made it very hard to see further than a couple of dozen yards around.

"Where are we?" Cedric asked. "I thought the maze was it!"

"I..." Harry said, "I think it was it... I don't think this is part of the Tournament."

"But what on earth are here for, then?" Cedric asked, not really expecting an answer. "I'm gonna take a look around."

And before Harry could stop him, he started to walk away into the fog. Harry somehow managed to get on his feet despite his injuries and stumbled after Cedric's receding figure.

"Wait!" Harry ordered with an edge of panic in his voice. He had just realised that their surroundings looked exactly like what he remembered from his nightmares of Voldemort.

"What?" Cedric said, and continued almost immediately, "Look, I think there's a house over there. A really big one."

"I know," Harry said. "A manor. We must go back!"

"What do you mean you know?" Cedric asked, turning back to Harry, "Have you been here before?" They were close enough now to see that it indeed was a manor, or maybe the fog was lifting. Anyway, now that Harry got a better look at the house, there was no longer any doubt in his mind. This _was_ the place of his nightmares.

"No," Harry said, "Never. But I've seen this place in my dreams. Or rather my nightmares. The ones I went to see Dumbledore for. Please let's go back."

"To where, Harry? We have no idea where we are. And are you really sure this is the same place? What if this is the final part of the Task?"

"We're not supposed to be here!" Harry insisted. "Let's go back to the Cup, please! It's a portkey, so it'll take us back to Hogwarts."

"Okay," Cedric said after a pause, sensing his distress. "If you're sure, luv."

"I'm positive." Harry said, "Come on." But just then, there was a sound behind Cedric, who turned again to look at the manor. On the dark basement wall, a door opened and a figure came out. A hooded figure, who turned towards them and moved slightly. Harry wanted to scream a warning or to cast a spell, but found he couldn't. Instead, he felt his tongue getting tied to the roof of his mouth. His feet got magically glued to the ground and the muscles in his arms froze. And that easily, Harry Potter was helpless, mute and immobile. All it took was a cover of fog and darkness and some silent spellcasting. The dark, robed figure started to walk towards them.

TO BE CONTINUED


	19. The Graveyard

Hi.

I'm back, and this time with some of the darkest moments of the story. Therefore, please read carefully before you proceed.

**A WARNING:**

**If you're the kind of reader that gets deeply attached to the characters, it might be better for you to wait at this point until the whole story is finished, or at least the next chapter. It might be weeks before the next update, and the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter is not a nice place to wait.**

I know that I've promised you some things in the past, but the story has a mind of its own, and sometimes it's no use for the writer to fight it. Remember, it ain't over until the fat... er... something sings.

Love you all, and I hope you won't hate me for this. Happy Solstice everyone!

:)

Takeo

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_Personally, I have never understood the Death Eaters. I just don't see what makes them tick. Or maybe I see too clearly the holes in their kind of reasoning. I guess it's because of what Dumbledore taught us so long ago back in Hogwarts. Hate only feeds on itself, in the end, and if you're willing to deceive and betray anyone for personal gain, you'll be left alone with no friends, no supporters and no love. What good is money, if you don't have anyone to share it with. What good is power, if all it awakens is fear. Why on earth would anyone want to be the second in command for Voldemort? Or even worse, who'd want to be him? I know I never did, and neither did Ron, Harry or Cedric. And Voldemort's downfall was that he assumed everyone wanted his place. A cunning, terrifying fool, in hindsight. But so awfully powerful, that at the time it was next to impossible to believe he'd ever be defeated._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 19**

**The Graveyard**

The hooded figure approached Harry and Cedric. His balance was a bit off, and when he got a little closer, they could see that he was carrying something in the crook of his arm. A bundle of some kind, wrapped in his robes. Even if Harry still couldn't see the face of the hooded man, some familiarity in his movements convinced Harry that he was looking at Wormtail. A couple of more steps, and the man stopped and pulled down his hood, revealing his face.

Wormtail's mouselike face had changed. It wasn't the visage of the weak, pitiful wreck of a man Harry remembered from their previous meeting a year before. The eyes were still furtive, but not so much with fear, but cunning, and there were deep new lines of pain and cruelty etched on his face, and a sense of purpose in his manner. He was a servant of an evil master now, and it showed. Voldemort had started to shape him. He still looked like a rodent, yes, but the mouse had turned into a power-hungry rat.

Wormtail started to open the bundle in his arms, and suddenly a feeling of revulsion took over Harry. If he could have moved, he'd have turned away. He didn't want that bundle to be opened. But then again, Harry was not asked. Wormtail moved the cloth enough for the thing inside to see the two boys, and them to see it, the little they could make out in the dim light. Cedric gasped. Whatever was inside the bundle was unnatural, tainted and horrible to look at. In form, it reminded Harry of some images he had seen of stillborn babies, born way too early. But it's skin was scaly and raw, and face looked almost like a snake. Inwardly, Harry shivered in disgust.

In its feeble, malformed hand the creature was holding a wand. Cedric gave another gasp and raised his own wand to readiness. But he was too kind, or noble, or unaccustomed to danger to strike even that creature without a cause, and that meant he had no chance at all.

High, cold and hissing voice emerged from the monstrosity even as the wand swished in the air: "Crucio!"

Cedric screamed. His back arched as if he was hit with a nearly lethal voltage of electricity. His wand fell to the ground and his body followed a moment later. As the curse was uttered, the scar in Harry's forehead seared with an unbearable pain. It was so intense that it actually broke the freezing charm he was under, and he slumped down, retching with pain, and Cedric's continuous screaming echoing in his ears. Or maybe it was his mother's. Harry didn't know. His world turned black, and he lost consciousness.

- - -

When Harry came to his senses, his scar was throbbing with dull ache along with his somewhat erratic pulse. Again, he found that he couldn't move, but this time it was because of rounds and rounds of wiry rope, not a spell, and at least he could turn his head, so he looked around.

Harry found himself tied to a large and imposing headstone of a grave, together with Cedric, who was on his left. Cedric seemed to be unconscious, but breathing, so at least he was still alive. In front of Harry, Wormtail was preparing some kind of a potion in a huge cauldron, big enough for a fully grown man to comfortably bathe in. The foul small creature, which Harry now knew for certain to be Voldemort, in rudimentary bodily form once again, was sitting in its bundle of robes a few yards away, watching Wormtail work. Every now and then it gave impatient orders and instructions to Wormtail.

"Hurry!" Voldemort hissed, and Wormtail started to stir faster.

The liquid in the cauldron heated up and begun to bubble and shoot up bright sparks. The sparks multiplied and grew in intensity, until the whole surface of the potion looked like it was covered in white diamonds.

"It's ready, master," Wormtail said.

"Now!" Voldemort hissed, and Wormtail picked up his malformed body, carried it to the cauldron and lowered it into the liquid. Harry heard the body hit the bottom of the vessel, and then an intake of breath from his left. He looked at Cedric, who had woken up.

"What _is_ that... thing?" Cedric asked.

"It's Voldemort," Harry answered, almost heady from the knowledge that Cedric was all right, despite the torture he had endured. "It must be his new body."

"Silence!" Wormtail shouted, and jinxed them with lock-jaw spells, so that they couldn't talk any more. Instead, Cedric managed to wriggle his right arm enough to take Harry's hand in his own within the confines of the ropes binding them, and they continued to hold hands through the events unfolding in front of their eyes.

"The bone of the father," Wormtail intoned, and pointed his wand to the grave. "unknowingly given, you shall renew your son!" The ground in Harry's feet was broken open and a piece of dusty bone rose from within the grave, floated above the cauldron and was dropped in. The liquid hissed, the diamonds disappeared in sparks and the potion turned into poisonous blue.

Next, Wormtail took out a sharp dagger, and now he was clearly distressed to the edge of panic. He went to the cauldron, raised his fisted right hand over it and took the blade to his wrist. His voice was shaking and almost broke, when he continued the ritual: "The flesh of the servant, willingly given, you... will revive... your master!" And with a terrible effort, Wormtail slashed upwards with the blade, cutting his own right hand off his wrist. Harry had just time to shut his eyes before the fact when he realised what was going to happen, but he couldn't escape Wormtail's horrible howls and sobs of pain that followed. Cedric almost crushed his fingers, and Harry knew he was holding on to Cedric's hand equally hard.

When Harry opened his eyes again, the brewing potion had turned into violent, luminescent scarlet. Wormtail was on his feet again, although sobbing and whimpering. The blade must have been magical, because the stub where Wormtail's hand had been just moments ago didn't bleed nearly as much as it should have. "How typical for Voldemort," Harry thought, "not to include pain killers in the spell. He _wants_ people to suffer, even his own servants."

Then Harry lost the track of that particular train of thought, because Wormtail was staggering to him, still holding the dagger. Somehow the whimpering man managed to resite the third line of the ritual: "The blood of the enemy... forcibly taken, you shall resurrect your foe!" Harry felt Cedric trashing beside him, trying to free himself from the ropes, but to no avail. Harry didn't even try, he knew already that it would be pointless. Besides, unlike Cedric, he had a very clear idea that Voldemort wouldn't like anyone else to kill him, oh no, he wanted Harry for himself. So Harry waited calmly for Wormtail to do what he wanted to. And, in the end, it was only a few drops of Harry's blood he took into a small vial after stabbing a vein in Harry's arm. Without so much as a glance to Harry's eyes, Wormtail turned and staggered back to the cauldron and poured the blood into the liquid.

Instantly, the brew turned blindingly white. For a moment or two it spewed forth more diamond-like sparks, but they soon died out, and the surface turned dark. Wormtail collapsed on the ground, his work apparently done and his strength spent. Suddenly, a huge cloud of steam billowed out of the cauldron, covering everything in front of the boys in light grey. There was so much steam that it seemed like all the liquid in the cauldron had vaporised. Then, just when Harry had had time to hope that something had gone wrong and the disgusting rudimentary body had drowned, he saw someone rising from the cauldron. The figure, half covered with the steam, was tall, elegant and skeletally thin.

"Robe me," the thin, cold voice commanded, and Wormtail scampered up, fetched the robes that had been left near the cauldron and with his remaining hand, covered his master's new body.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

- - -

For Harry, watching what followed Voldemort's return to full human body was a mix of fear, loathing and frustration born of his helpless state in the ropes. He kept holding Cedric's hand while Voldemort taunted Wormtail, summoned his Death-Eaters, disciplined and mocked them, and finally turned his attention to the prisoners. The warm touch of his lover comforted him enormously, even when his courage fluttered like a bird's wing in a storm of fear. Later, the evening sometimes haunted his nightmares as a collection of voices repeating disconnected sentences:

"The _other_ arm, Wormtail..."

"You promised, Master..."

"I smell guilt. There's a stench of guilt in the air."

"Forgive us, Master!"

"I don't forgive. Nor do I forget. Thirteen long years..."

"Thank you master! It's beautiful..."

"Lord Voldemort rewards those who help him."

"And here we are six Death Eaters short. Three died in my service. One was too cowardly to return... he'll pay, of course. One, I believe, has left me forever... And one is still my most faithfull servant. He is at Hogwarts, that one, and through his efforts these young _lovers,_" Voldemort spat the word out like poison, "have joined us here tonight."

And here it was, the moment of reckoning. Harry' s mouth was suddenly dry. Voldemort's fiery eyes were boring into his, making the scar burn again. Every pair of eyes present were staring at them now. Harry lifted his chin and clenced his jaw, looking defiantly back at Voldemort, who turned his back at him to look at their audience. The giant snake Nagini slithered around the grave, its sleek body hissing against the long grass.

"Oh yes," Voldemort said, smiling crookedly, " Harry Potter has kindly turned up, with a _friend,_ to my rebirth party. We might even say that he's the guest of honour. After all, he's the one who caused my downfall, and therefore he's the one who'll end up _dead_ tonight."

Cedric struggled in his ropes and tried to speak, but couldn't. Their jaws were still bound by Wormtail's spell. Some of the Death Eaters moved excitedly, but Voldemort paid them no attention and continued:

"You know, of course, that this boy has been called my conqueror, you know that I tried to kill him that night thirteen years ago when I lost my powers and my body. But what you don't know is that it wasn't because of _him. _There's _nothing_ special in Harry Potter, he's but a half-blood brat. His mudblood bitch of a mother died trying to save him, and unknowingly gave him a protection I hadn't anticipated. I couldn't touch him."

Voldemort was now gazing at Harry with such intense ferocity, such... hunger that it made Harry's scar singe afresh. But that didn't bother him. What was disturbing was the evident lust in Voldemort's eyes, the fervent desire to hurt, to damage, ruin and mutilate him. And perhaps, Harry realised for the first time, it was some twisted form of sexuality, devoid of any form or even a smallest trace of love. Looking at Voldemort, he felt his insides turn to ice.

As if on cue, Voldemort came closer, and closer still, until his face was only inches from Harry's. His eyes shone bright red, filling Harry's field of vision. His breath felt dry on Harry's skin. Voldemort tilted his head, it looked like he was going to kiss Harry. Instead, he raised one white, long finger, and mockingly caressed Harry's cheek, his mouth twisting to a cruel imitation of a smile.

Harry's scar _exploded_ in pain. He trashed in his ropes, trying in vain to get away from that evil, elegant hand. Just when he thought he couldn't take any more of the pain, Voldemort removed his hand, still smiling.

"It was old magic, the kind I hadn't considered," Voldemort continued to his audience. "I have to admit it was a mistake, but no matter." His eyes bored to Harry's once more, and he lowered his voice to something akin to intimacy. "I can touch you now, Harry. There's no mother to die for you this time, and no Dumbledore to protect you. But maybe," he said, like the idea had just occurred to him, "you brought Cedric here, thinking that _he_ loves you enough to protect you, this time. You fools!" Voldemort watched Cedric trying to protest in vain. "You want to say something," Voldemort asked snapping his fingers, lifting the jaw-lockin spell "don't you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Cedric demanded at once, his voice hoarse from straining against the silencing spell.

"Why?" Voldemort repeated, astounded. "You dare to question me? Me! Diggory, you deserve a lesson. And it might prove educational for you, too, Potter. You and your ridiculous obsession with _love_, which Dumbledore has so effectively imprinted on you. I'll show you, Harry, what it really means."

Voldemort raised his wand towards Cedric.

"No!" Harry shouted desperately, but in vain. When the echoes of his protest was still ringing in the air, Voldemort said silkily, as if enjoying the sound: "Crucio..."

Cedric howled, even worse than the first time. His body tightened against the ropes, which denied him even the small release of trashing around in his agony.

"No!" Harry shouted, "Don't hurt him! Stop!"

After another moment filled only with Cedric's yells of pain, Voldemort stopped. It had only lasted for a few seconds, maybe ten, but even that was more than enough. Cedric hung limp in his ropes, panting heavily. Cold sweat was trickling down his brow. Harry realised that while watching his beloved being tortured he had dug his nails deep enough into his own hands to drawn blood.

"Love hurts," Voldemort asked, "doesn't it, Potter? It makes you a weakling and a fool. You're already in pain, and I haven't even started with you yet. Love is a defect, Potter."

"And now, what would be the most cruel and unusual punishment for _you_, Potter? Should I kill your boyfriend in front of you? Hmmm... That would hurt, wouldn't it, Harry?"

Harry didn't say anything, but he felt like his heart had stopped beating. He forced himself to confront Voldemort's gaze straight on, and lifted his chin in defiance once again.

Voldemort fell silent, too. The theater was over. His gaze was filled with cold hatred now. He flicked his wand once, and Cedric's ropes turned into thin black serpents, slithering all over his body.

Cedric rushed to his feet, yelping in shock and shaking the snakes off, then hastily bent down again to pick up the ones that had landed on Harry and to throw them further away. Voldemort laughed, and like a malevolent choir, the Death Eaters joined in.

"Give the boy his wand," Voldemort ordered, and Wormtail, using his magical silver hand, did as he was told. Cedric took his wand, then tucked it away in his pocket.

"You'll need that, Diggory," Voldemort said coldly. "I hope you've been taught how to duel, have you?"

"Yes," Cedric answered, "but I don't intend to duel with you."

"Oh, really," mocked Voldemort. "And you think the decision is up to you, do you?"

"I'm not helpless," Cedric said, "but I know I'm no match to you. Why duel, when the outcome is clear? I can't possibly win."

"No, you can't," admitted Voldemort, "but I need to teach Harry..." Voldemort smiled slowly, "...another lesson."

"He already knows you're cruel," Cedric retorted.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted, his face contorting into a grimace of fury. "Nobody gets to be smart with me, Diggory! Nobody!" The force of his curse was terrible, it bowled Cedric off his feet like a tsunami, threw him down like a ragdoll and then lifted him a couple of feet off the ground. It looked like he was being electrocuted, sparks were flying from his fingers and hair, and his previous shouts of pain paled compared to the sounds he was making now. And Harry shouted, too, trying desperately but in vain to get out of the ropes, yelling incoherent insults and pleads that nobody could hear over Cedric's anguished howling, and then started to sob incontrollably.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Voldemort lowered his wand. Cedric fell to the ground, limp and silent, and didn't move.

"Is he... dead?" one of the Death Eaters asked.

Voldemort didn't answer. His eyes looked predatory, and he turned his gaze towards Harry, who was still sobbing, tears flowing profusely down his face.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Potter," Voldemort said, "because your time is up. There's nobody powerful enough to protect you." He flicked his wand lazily, and Harry's ropes disappeared. Another flick, and Harry's wand flew to his feet. "Pick up your wand. It's time for you to die, Harry Potter."

Without waiting for Harry's answer, Voldemort went to Cedric, kneeled beside him and caressed his pale cheek with his white and bony but chillingly graceful hand. "Don't worry, Harry, he's not dead. I decided to keep him, in the end. And before you die, Harry, you should know that he faces 13 times 13 years as my slave. I can easily keep him alive, his body young and beautiful, for as long as I want. And given enough time, anybody can be broken. I shall break him, and mold him anew. Before the end, he'll love _me_ instead of you. And then, Harry Potter, and only then I shall give him the release of death."

Harry was on his feet in split second, the injured leg forgotten and wand lashing out the worst curses he had ever learned, but still he wasn't fast enough. Before his curses hit, Voldemort was also on his feet, and Harry's spells were absorbed by a weird, glowing shielding charm Harry had never seen.

"Manners, Potter!" Voldemort chided mockingly. "The niceties should be observed. Before we duel, you should bow to me."

"Fuck you, Riddle!" Harry shouted furiously.

"Bow to Death, Harry," Voldemort said in a dangerous voice. "Imperio!"

And Harry felt his will being packed away into what felt like soft cotton, his mind disconnected from it, and a soft voice insisted that he should bow, bow very low indeed. But somehow the enchantment wasn't complete, and a corner of his mind was still his, and it resisted. "No," he thought, "I wont." And the thought became words, and suddenly Harry's mind was clear again.

"No," Harry shouted, "I won't!"

"You won't?" Voldemort said, surprised and in rising fury. "We'll see about that!" He flicked his wand again, and Harry felt a giant invisible hand forcing his body to bend so low that in the end he lost his balance and fell face forward on the ground, his injured leg giving way. The invisible force released him, and Harry rolled over to see, at least, what was happening. If nothing else, he wanted to face his destiny. And it really looked like he was going to get killed. Voldemort's features were distorted with rage and his inhuman eyes shone bright red. His wand was pointing straight at Harry, and then started to move in a fluid arc which meant he was about to cast another curse.

"Avada..." Lord Voldemort started, screaming.

With his injured leg bent badly underneath him, Harry had no chance to avoid the curse. At the last moment between the words, when Voldemort's wand was still moving before settling on its target, Harry saw someone throwing himself in between them from the sidelines. It was Cedric. While rushing forward, he turned his head to look at Harry, and for the shortest of times Harry saw into his beautiful silvery eyes.

"... Kedavra!"

Then there was a green flash, and a dull thud of a body hitting the ground, and something in Harry broke to pieces.

TO BE CONTINUED


	20. The Song of the Phoenix

Hi again.

I bet you didn't expect this! An update and two chapters in just two days!

Actually, I didn't expect this either, but I couldn't leave you all hanging on the cliff there. At least, not on that kind of a dark, evil cliff I wrote for the last chapter. So I wrote almost through the night, and here are the results.

I hope you like them. Love you all, as ever.

:)

Takeo

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_In the direst moments of our lives, when it seems that nothing good can result from what's happening, our moral compass, our heart is the only thing we can count on. It might be that doing what is good and decent doesn't help, but if it doesn't, nothing will. And the alternative is infinitely worse. When it comes down to it, it's better to die free and honest than succumb to the evils of this world. That's what I believe, but I have never been in the situation where my belief would have really been tested. Close, but not quite there. And for that I'm infinitely grateful, because honestly, I don't know if I could pass that test._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 20**

**The Song of the Phoenix**

Harry didn't know how he had got there, nor did he have any idea how much time had passed. He had a faint recollection of gripping Cedric's robes, pleading for the evidence of his eyes and ears to be false and sobbing himself hoarse. Then abysmal darkness had claimed him. Everything was lost. Cedric was dead. Harry's love had killed him, just like he had feared in the beginning of their relationship.

When Harry started to recover any kind of coherent thought, he was sitting beside Cedric, cradling his head on his lap. Cedric was still beautiful, still warm, and looked like he was sleeping peacefully, except for the lack of the breath and the heartbeat, and open, staring eyes with no movement in them.

Gradually, Harry became aware of the voices surrounding him some distance away. The Death Eaters were still around him. Voldemort was still present! On the face of his monumental grief, it seemed impossibly trivial that the uncaring universe around him had not stopped, had continued its existence like nothing had happened.

"...the bloody faggot!" a Death Eater exclaimed to end a sentence the start of which Harry had not registered.

"How could _anyone_," Voldemort said, "believe that this miserable wreck of a cry-baby is any kind of match for me! I have defeated Harry Potter without even landing a single curse on him."

In Harry, Voldemort's words awakened a terrible hatred and a new determination. In spite of his dead beloved, in spite of his gut-wrenching sorrow and the guilt that had started to eat him from inside, Harry suddenly knew that he couldn't give in. He couldn't let Voldemort win. Not just for himself, but for Cedric's friends and his parents, he had to escape somehow, and tell them the awful news. The prospect terrified Harry, but he knew he had no choice. He had to try. Slowly and inconspicuously, he felt his pockets and found his wand in its usual place, whole and intact.

He knew that he couldn't realistically run with his injured leg. His one and only chance would be to distract Voldemort long enough to be able to summon the Tri-Wizard Cup, the portkey, back to him. If he held on to Cedric, it would take them both back home.

Harry raised his hand to caress Cedric's face one last time, to run his gentle fingers over the unseeing eyes to close Cedric's lids over that beautiful silver forever. Carefully he then lifted Cedric's head off his lap and got to a kneeling position. Then, before rising up, he kissed the love of his life on the lips once more, and silently whispered in his ear: "I'll take you home, love. I promise." Tears welled up in Harry's eyes again, dropping like pearls, and when he got up, it looked like Cedric was crying over the separation as well.

Slowly and deliberately, Harry rose to his feet, tore his eyes off Cedric, and turned, trying to relax his awfully tense arms and shoulders as he did so. Despite their previous mockery, the Death Eaters fell silent. Voldemort was right in front of Harry now, maybe 30 feet away.

"Ready for more, Potter?" Voldemort asked, but he did not smile.

This time, Harry moved like a lightning, his Quidditch-trained reflexes giving him more speed than Voldemort had suspected he possessed. Even if Voldemort's wand was in readiness, and Harry's hand started from his pocket, their spells flew forward simultaneously.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.

"Avada Kedavra!", Voldemort cried again. This was the third time he aimed the killing curse at Harry Potter, and again it failed him. The green bolt of magic shot out of his wand, but in the middle it met Harry's red disarming spell head on. And when the spells met Harry's wand started to vibrate like some strange force was flowing through it, at the same time trying to tug it from his grip and glueing his fingers to it. And now his wand and Voldemort's were connected by a thread of light, not green nor red, but deep, bright golden.

And suddenly Harry felt his feet leave the ground. His surprised eyes saw Voldemort floating upwards as well, his fingers gripping equally vibrating wand. Next the golden thread sprouted a thousand offshoots which gracefully created a glowing sphere around them. The Death Eaters, their wands out, were circling the golden dome, but their shouts were strangely muffled.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shouted to his servants, his red eyes wide with shock. Harry saw him trying to pull his wand out of the connection, and he gripped his own wand tighter than ever, now with both hands.

And then the air was filled with the most beautiful, ethereal sound Harry had ever heard. It was coming from all over them, from every fibre of the golden web surrounding them, and Harry recognised it immediately. It was the song of a phoenix, and it filled Harry with a new hope and optimism. This was surely something that Voldemort couldn't use for his evil ends. The sound reminded him of Dumbledore, it was almost like a friend was speaking in his ear. "Don't break the connection," it said, even if there were no words in the message. But Harry heard and understood it anyway. "I won't," he promised to the music, and suddenly it became infinitely harder to hold the wand.

There were pearls of light appearing on the string that was connecting the two wands, and slowly they started to move towards Harry. The closer they came, the more his wand vibrated and the hotter it became. Harry thought his wand would surely explode if the pearl of light got to touch it, and he concentrated with all his might to push the pearls towards Voldemort instead.

Very, very slowly the lights stopped, and even slower, they started to advance towards his enemy. Harry's wand grew cooler and easier to handle, and the song in his ears grew louder and more joyous while Voldemort looked genuinely scared for the first time, his wand vibrating ever harder.

Finally, Harry's furious concentration drove the pearls far enough that the first one came in contact with Voldemort's wand. And when it did, several things happened: Something like a cloud of very dense smoke erupted from the wand. The phoenix song became louder and more directional, sounding like it was coming from the top of the dome surrounding Harry and Voldemort. So did the light of the dome itself. The rest of the web grew silvery, while the golden light concentrated and intensified above their heads. And then, just as Harry realised with a jolt that the smoke had formed into the ghost of Cedric, there was a shower of golden sparks from the top of the dome, and from the sparks appeared one of the most welcomed sights Harry could have wished for. Fawkes the phoenix spread its magnificent wings, flew around the dome once and then landed on Harry's shoulder.

Harry felt the presence of Dumbledore's pet bird give him new strength and he continued to fight with renewed vigour. Voldemort looked at Cedric with obvious shock and horror, and that made Harry more confident still. And then, the ghost of Cedric floated towards him, looking so solid, so _alive_, that despite the grey, smoky colour Harry had hard time accepting that he was looking at a mere ghost.

"Don't give up, Harry!" the ghost said. "There's more help coming, if you can keep this up."

And sure enough, a new ghost emerged from the wand. It was an old man, looking surprised but encouraging Harry all the same. Then a witch, Bertha Jorkins appeared, and Harry started to realise what was happening. He was forcing the ghosts of the victims of Voldemort's killing curses out of his wand. And while Cedric stayed with him, giving him strength, the other two were circling Voldemort and hissing curses at him.

"Harry," said Cedric's ghost. "Take my body back to Hogwarts, okay?. And when we're back there, kiss me once more. Okay?"

"Yes," Harry said, fighting with his vibrating wand, "of course I will."

"This is really important," the ghost said, "You _must_ kiss me, no matter who tries to prevent you. Promise?"

"I..." Harry panted, "I promise."

Then there was the next ghost, and Harry felt a new lump in his throat. His mother had arrived, and the next one... His father, so alike Harry himself, emerged from Voldemort's wand. Together Lily and James came to join Harry and Cedric, smiling and speaking words of love and encouragement.

When his parents arrived, Harry felt Fawkes leave his shoulder, and Cedric's ghost floated away, too. From the corner of his eye he saw Fawkes landing on Cedric's body. Then his father spoke, and Harry missed the phoenix shedding several glimmering tears, which dropped on Cedric's dead lips.

"Harry," his father's ghost said, "it's almost over. Just hang on a while longer. And on my mark, severe the connection by pulling your wand aside with all your strength."

"We'll give you a short moment to escape," his mother said, smiling, "and then we'll fade again. You must go to Cedric and summon the Cup immediately, for we won't be able to stay after the spell is broken."

"We are so very proud of you, Harry," his father said.

"And this young man of yours..." Lily said, "...is a fine boy. We would have loved him like our own. Goodbye, Harry."

"And good luck," his father said, "We love you, son."

Harry couldn't bring himself to speak at all. He just hung on his wand for his life.

"Now!" shouted the ghost of James Potter. He and Lily, together with the ghosts of Bertha Jorkins and the old muggle, charched towards Voldemort. Harry teared his wand away from the golden thread and saw the connection break. Immediately he felt himself falling, not as fast as he normally would, but not floating either. When his feet met the ground, he sprinted towards Cedric, ignoring the sharp pains in his leg.

"Accio Cup," Harry shouted while running, and just before he collapsed on top of Cedric's body, he thought he saw Cedric's ghost and Fawkes to merge together and melt into the ribcage of the body. But when he reached Cedric, he was as dead as before, and getting colder.

But right now, Harry had no time to mourn and no time to wonder. He glanced around, saw the Death Eaters approaching from every direction and Voldemort shaking off the disintegrating remains of the ghosts. Then, just when Voldemort shouted in high fury: "Stop him, you fools!", the Cup flew to his outstretched hand, and a familiar tug in his navel told him he had made it. Clutching Cedric's body with all his might, Harry was ported out of the fight.

- - -

After an indeterminable time, Harry was thrown in the midst of a celebrating crowd. The noise, lights and colours hit his senses like a sledgehammer. The contrast between the happy bustle of people and the stark, dark reality of what he just had experienced broke the dam. He started sobbing again, almost hysterically, tears flowing all over his face. Cedric was dead! Harry closed his eyes and just lay there, clinging to Cedric with one hand, the treacherous Cup with the other. He felt like his mind would collapse, if he ever let go of them. He heard screaming, shouted questions, the drumming of thousands of footsteps thronging ever closer and oddly enough, the heavy shock of a silence spreading out in whispers, when the crowd realised what they were seeing.

Then, a pair of hands turned him by the shoulders, gently but irresistibly. He opened his eyes, and saw the concerned, lined face of Albus Dumbledore.

"He's back," Harry croaked. "Voldemort."

"Where?" Dumbledore asked at once, sharply. "You didn't leave the grounds."

"We went..." Harry managed to say, "the portkey... took us to the graveyard!"

"The graveya..." Dumbledore started, and then swore under his breath, so that Harry couldn't make it out. "Merlin's Beard!" he then exclaimed aloud. For once, he seemed to be dumbfounded, and Harry didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

Then the face of horrified Cornelius Toffee appeared above Harry.

"Diggory!" the minister whispered, "He's... he's dead! Good grief! His parents, Dumbledore! They're here. His father is coming."

"Harry, wait here!" Dumbledore ordered. "I'll have to meet Cedric's parents. Don't go anywhere. Watch him." The last part was said to somebody else, and then Dumbledore was gone.

"Harry," Cornelius said, "let go of Diggory. You should go to the hospital wing."

"I..." Harry started, there was something he should be doing, but his mind was reeling from everything that had happened, and the task escaped him at the moment. "I had to bring him back... to his parents," he explained weakly.

"Let go of him!" a gruff new voice ordered. "I'll take you to the hospital wing, Potter." And despite Harry's protests, his hands were pryed away from Cedric's body and he was lifted to his feet. Harry felt the blood escape his head, and his vision blurred and darkened on the edges. He felt like he was going to faint. The grotesque face of Mad-Eye Moody filled his remaining field of vision.

"Come on, boy!" Mad-Eye said, and started to drag him through the terrified crowd, carrying half of his weight.

"Dumbledore..." Harry protested weakly, "he said I should stay."

Mad-Eye ignored him. Soon they were at the castle, and Mad-Eye dragged him in."What happened, Harry?" he asked. "It's very important that you tell me everything that happened."

And while they were advancing through the corridors, Harry told, not very well nor coherently, but rather in painful shards of fragmented memory, what had happened. They arrived in a room, Mad-Eye closed the door and gave Harry a large mug.

"Drink this," he ordered, "It'll make you feel better."

And whatever it was that he was drinking, it did make him feel better. His vision returned to its normal sharpness and his mind became clearer. But there was something wrong with the way Mad-Eye was acting, like a veneer was peeling off of his character. And then, clear as day, Harry remembered! Voldemort had said there was a Death Eater at Hogwarts, he had known about Harry and Cedric, and Dumbledore had ordered for Harry to stay put, and for Mad-Eye to watch over him. And still, he had taken Harry away, and not to the hospital wing, but to his own office!

"It was you!" Harry cried out, perplexed, "Nobody else except our friends knew about Cedric! But how? You're an auror! Dumbledore trusts you!"

"Dumbledore is an old fool!" snarled Moody. "He never realised anything. How I coached you, gave you hints and helped you in the tasks to make sure you made it, despite your infinite stupidity and mediocre talents. Without me, you'd have lost the Tournament instead of winning it."

"I fought Voldemort!" Harry barked. Behind Mad-Eye, he had seen something that made him feel bold. There were three figures advancing towards them in a foeglass, and they were close enough that Harry recognised them. McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore were coming to his aid.

"Don't you dare..." Mad-Eye shouted, spit flying from his mouth, "...to say his name, you filthy faggot! You might have escaped the Dark Lord, but he killed that poofter lover of yours, and you won't escape me!"

But just when Mad-Eye was lifting his wand towards Harry, the heavy oak door of his office was blasted to shards, and in the doorframe stood Dumbledore, looking so alien that Harry forgot even to draw his own wand. Gone was the humorous twinkle of his blue eyes and the warm smile. His eyes were ablaze with cold fury and his face a terrible mask of anger. He looked nothing so much as an avenging god of storms and lightning. Harry felt the magical power emanating from him as an almost physical force, like an invisible wind had blasted over him. At last he fully understood why Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared.

Mad-Eye spun on his heels, but he might as well have stayed put. The duel was so swift, and Dumbledore so overwhelming, that it really wasn't a duel as much as a knockout. There was a terrible burst of golden energy, and when Harry could see again, Mad-Eye was lying unconscious on the floor.

- - -

Five minutes later, Harry's injured leg was tied so that he could walk again. The real Alastor Moody had been found, the fake one alias Barty Crouch had been tied to a chair, and Dumbledore had sent MacGonagall and Snape away with the most peculiar set of instructions. To fetch a dog from Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and the Triwizard Cup, to get some Veritaserum and an elf called Winky, and to make sure Cedric's body would not be taken away before his friends had a chance to pay their respects. And instead of coming back to the DADA office, he told them to meet him with all the members of the Order (whatever that was) they could find plus the Diggorys and Cornelius Fudge, in the hospital wing.

"And now, Harry," Dumbledore said, "quickly tell me what happened, as accurately as you can remember, but at the moment only the outline. I'm afraid we won't have time for more."

And Harry did as he was told. His mind was clear once more, but with the memory the terrible guilt and sorrow had returned, and he had to pause every so often. To clear his throat, or to get his sobbing in check, or just to breathe deeply for a moment, before he could go on the terrible tale he had to tell.

When he reached the end of the story, Dumbledore only asked one question: "And what happened to Fawkes, Harry?"

"I don't..." Harry stumbled, "I'm not sure. He just disappeared."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "And is there maybe something that you'll have to do, Harry? Some task to fullfill?"

"Cedric," Harry gasped, "I need to say goodbye to Cedric. He asked me to kiss him goodbye."

"Then," Dumbledore said tenderly, "we should go to him." And he flicked his wand, lifting Moody's unconscious form to levitate behind them, took Harry's arm in his to steady the exhausted boy and led him out. When they were outside the office, Dumbledore fixed the massive doors and sealed them against intruders. Then they headed for the hospital wing, where Cedric's body had been taken.

- - -

When Harry and Dumbledore arrived to the large entrance hall of the hospital wing, they saw a formidable crowd gathered inside, and at least half of them started to talk immediately when they entered. Minister Fudge tried to look impressive and statesmanlike, and failed. The Diggorys were there and the Weasleys, Molly, Arthur, Bill, the twins and Ginny. Ron and Hermione were present, of course, and Hagrid's massive form, tailed by not Fang, but a huge black dog Harry knew to be his godfather. Snape and Remus Lupin had come, and professors Sprout and Flittwick. McGonagall had Winky with her, and Madam Pomfrey looked flustered and a bit scandalised because of the gathering. And on top of that, many of Cedric's classmates and friends had arrived to say goodbye, Cho Chang among them. She had been crying, and she was not the only one.

"What happened to Moody?" somebody asked, pointing the floating figure.

"Poppy, would you please take care of Alastor," Dumbledore said. "He's very weak, I'm afraid."

Madam Pomfrey came forward, tutted at the sight of the wasted old man, and went away.

"This is highly irregular!" Cornelius Fudge huffed, red in the face. "The boy should be given to his parents!"

"You!" Amos Diggory shouted at Harry. "You killed my son!"

"No, Amos, he didn't," Dumbledore said calmly. "He saved Cedric's body. Voldemort killed him."

"Aahh." Fudge jumped, shocked at the use of the name. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! What _is_ this nonsense!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Diggory, Ma'am," Harry said, fighting to control his tears, and failing, then letting them fall freely down his cheeks "I... I loved your son, and I made him take the Cup with me. I couldn't... I couldn't save him. I'm so sorry."

"Loved him?" someone among Cedric's classmates wondered aloud. "You mean..."

"I mean that I'm gay," Harry said, surprisingly calm all of the sudden, "and so was Cedric. I mean that he loved me, and he was the love of my life. And I don't care who knows, because... there's nothing to be ashamed of in love."

And to Harry's surprise, everybody fell silent. Some, like Fudge, muttered in undertones, but most just looked at him awed, respectful, smiling or just plain flabbergasted.

Harry turned towards the bed where Cedric was lying in between blindingly white linen. He had been stripped of his robes and was wearing a simple white shirt under the sheets. His beautiful hair surrounded the equally beautiful face, and more than ever he looked like he was just sleeping. But when Harry went to him, and touched his hand, it felt shockingly cold.

"Goodbye, love," Harry said, and bent down to kiss his lover one last time. His warm, trembling lips met the icy lips of his dead beloved, and Harry felt the coldness seeping from his lips to his heart. He was sure he would never feel cheerful again. His love was gone, and his heart felt like a stone.

And then, before he had time to get up and flee, Harry heard a faint birdsong in his ears. It grew stronger and more unearthly, and suddenly it filled the room with a ringing, joyous cry. Red and golden flames burst from Cedric's bed, engulfing both Cedric and Harry and lifting them up in the air. The flames felt hot, but they didn't burn. Instead, the flames gathered around them in the form of Fawkes the phoenix, which soared upwards and then diappeared in a puff of white smoke. The song of the phoenix faded, and the bed floated back to the floor, and the skin under Harry's hand felt suddenly warm again. Harry had pressed his head to Cedric's chest when the bed started to move, and suddenly he could hear the thumping of the heart within, and feel the rise and fall of steady breathing. But Cedric's shirt had burned to ashes, and under Harry's head, his chest was now bare.

"Mom, Dad..." Cedric said, looking around, "Thank Heavens, Harry! You did it!"

"Blimey, Harry!" Fred exclaimed.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that!" George asked to the stunned silence.

TO BE CONTINUED


	21. Alliances

Hello everybody.

I'm truly sorry it took me more than a year and then some to finish the story, but here's at last the last installment. I'm not going to write any excuses, because it's obviously been way too long for them to be sufficient.

There were quite a lot of plot ends to tie together, and explanations to offer. I have tried to make all this as plausible as I could. You can decide if I pulled it off or not.

Thank you so much for sticking with me.

Hugs,

:)

Takeo

BTW, this is a monster chapter, way longer than any previous one.

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_When something very bad or extremely wonderful happens to a fellow human being in one's close proximity, it tends to bring out the quality of one's character. How differently those people reacted to the wonderful, incredible event which took place in the hospital wing! Amos, for one, revealed himself to own a bigger heart than he had been given credit for. Fred & George, true to their nature, found the funny side of the thing. Fudge, well, let's just say he's was a true politician, and leave it at that. _

_On the second thought, let's not. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, was rotten. He turned out to be the worst kind of politician this side of outright evil. He had grown accustomed to his post and the power it gave him, and that power had corrupted him as surely as a mouldering spell will rot an apple. Power very seldom suits people who covet it, and when Voldemort returned, it became clear that Fudge should never had gotten the minister post. If we'd had someone decent and competent as the Minister for Magic, Voldemort would've had much harder time regaining control over the land._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Chapter 21**

**Alliances**

For a full half a minute after Fred and George's two-liner, there was a nearly complete silence. Nobody spoke, and every shuffle of a foot could be clearly heard. Then, there was a sobbing draw of breath, a sudden movement, and in an instant both Harry and Cedric were crushed in a an embrace somewhere between desperate and overjoyed. Penelope Diggory, Cedric's mother, had rushed to the bedside. She was followed, only seconds after, by Amos Diggory. He didn't join the hug right away, even though he seemed to want to. Instead, he fell to his knees beside the bed to be on level with his son and took Cedric's hand in his own.

"I…" Amos started with difficulty, as if it was hard to get the words out around warring emotions, "I'm so sorry, Cedric! I don't… I don't know how I could be so blinded, such… such a fool not to appreciate you for what you are. And then, when I thought we had lost you… I came to my senses. And I thought I'd surely die of the guilt. I can't believe I… abandoned you like that... I'm so sorry, lad."

"Dad," Cedric said, but he couldn't continue. He burst into convulsive sobbing, clinging to Harry and his mother with one hand but not withdrawing the other from his father's hold.

"Please," Amos continued, "do you think you could ever forgive me?"

Cedric was incapable of answering, tears of happiness were flowing all over his face. Instead, he pulled his father into the embrace as well. Harry, whom Cedric had just let go of, got up and sneaked off. His mind was reeling and his heart was overflowing with the wonder of Cedric being alive again, but he also felt like an intruder in that intimate family reunion. And so he tried to melt into the crowd, which had at last found its voice. A cacophonic one. Almost everybody was babbling excitedly, some were arguing heatedly and very few were making any effort to actually listen what the next person tried to say. Adding to the confusion, Madame Maxime appeared, herding two floating brass beds before her. On the beds were Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour, both awake and apparently arguing on walking by themselves. Madame Maxime was having none of that, and floated the beds next to the one which Cedric was occupying with his parents.

Harry nodded to both new patients, glad to see they were okay, but he didn't go to talk to them. Fleur and Viktor didn't seem too astonished to see Cedric, so maybe nobody had even told them yet that he had been killed. Instead of setting the record straight with them, Harry had an idea of finding Ron and Hermione and escaping somewhere to tell _them_ everything that had happened, but, not unexpectedly, he didn't get that far.

"Potter!" Cornelius Fudge demanded, "Explain yourself! What bloody shenanigans have you been up to?"

"I'm sure," Harry said, "that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No idea? No idea!" Fudge spluttered, "Then, what is this… this absurd… theater you cooked up with Diggory?"

"Theater!" Harry exclaimed, "You saw him with your own eyes! He was _dead!_ How an earth do you think I could have faked that?"

"There's a potion–" Fudge started.

"I _suck_ at potions!" Harry interrupted rudely. Fudge turned a shade darker and looked a bit like a pressure cooker about to explode. Harry could almost see steam coming out of his ears, but suddenly a rescue arrived from an unexpected source.

"For once," professor Snape joined the conversation with his smooth but disdainful manner, "we are in complete agreement, Potter, even if I can't possibly approve of your language. Minister, there's no way _he_ could have produced the Draught of Living Death, let alone the antidote. Even I have to concentrate to get that one right."

"But…" Fudge started to object heatedly, but then the look of a sudden revelation spread over his pudgy face. "Maybe you're right, Severus," he said, very slowly, but obviously getting more exited with every word, "it was stupid of me to imagine that a couple of schoolboys were capable of faking something like this. I… I have to go."

"Why would anyone want to, anyway?" asked Harry, but the minister didn't pay any attention to him any more. Instead, he turned away and started to butt his way through the crowd towards Dumbledore. Harry moved as if to follow him.

"Potter," Snape said in an undertone, taking a hold of Harry's arm, "for once why don't you keep your nose out of other people's business. You have no idea how delicate the political situation is, and you'll only make it worse if you intervene."

Harry didn't answer. He gave Snape one disgusted look, shook his arm free and turned to follow Fudge. He wanted to know, and delicate politics be damned.

But again, Harry was interrupted, although pleasantly this time. Ron and Hermione were suddenly on his path, and Harry found his vision blurred by a mane of bushy hair when Hermione threw herself in his arms. Ron stood by, giving Harry his best lopsided grin and looking up as if to say: "Girls, eh?" It was so eloquent Harry could almost hear the words. He grinned back, although except for the delay, he didn't mind being hugged at all.

"Not now," Harry said when Hermione let go and started to shoot questions at him, "I want to see what the Minister is up to. Come with me."

When the trio reached Dumbledore and Fudge, the latter was staring up at Dumbledore, a demanding and curiously feverish look in his face.

"This was all your idea, Dumbledore," he was just saying, "and therefore your responsibility. I gave permission for the Tournament against my better judgement, and you nearly got our Champion killed! What say you?"

"Actually, he _was_ killed, and all the other Champions were in mortal danger, too," Dumbledore answered him, "but that wasn't my doing, except in the sense that despite my best efforts, I didn't succeed in preventing such a situation. But this is not the time nor the place for this conversation, Cornelius. I have several urgent matters to attend to here. Could you please be as kind as to meet me in my office in an hour or so?"

"Well, all right, Dumbledore," Fudge huffed, obviously not really agreeing at all, "At midnight, but not a second later, and no bloody tricks in the meantime, you hear me?"

"I'm in no mood for tricks, either, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied. "This is the most serious situation. I'll see you at midnight, then. Unless, "he offered,"you want to stay and see what can be found out about the incident here."

"I don't think so, Dumbledore," Fudge said icily. "I've seen enough, and I also have pressing matters to attend to."

"As you wish, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied.

After the Minister had turned away and left the room with his lackeys, Dumbledore turned to give Harry, Ron and Hermione a questioning look, each in turn. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him, because he nodded slowly. But when Harry opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore shook his head.

"Not just yet, Harry," he said calmly, "Let's get rid of the party first." And with a swish of his wand, Dumbledore conjured up a sturdy kitchen ladder, climbed on it, and raised his voice over the crowd.

"Friends, comrades and collegues," he announced, "thank you so much for coming, and let me say that I'm overjoyed to see this happy, colourful gathering instead of the mournful wake this occasion started out as. However, tonight's events were both extremely stressful and exceedingly grave, and I have to consult my staff, the Champions and Cedric's family. Time is of the essence now and we must act quickly. Everyone who I haven't specifically asked to stay, please see yourself out. Thank you ever so much."

Dumbledore climbed down, vanished the ladder and addressed Ron and Hermione: "You two can stay," he said and smiled, "It saves Harry the trouble of telling you everything afterwards."

Harry grinned at the familiar twinkle now back in the old wizard's eyes. Dumbledore went to change a couple of words with Madame Maxime while the room started to empty, and soon only Maxime, the members of the staff, Winky, Padfoot, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Diggorys and Harry, Fleur, Viktor, Ron & Hermione were left in the room.

"First of all," Dumbledore started a short while later, "I must apologise to everyone here, but especially Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Viktor for failing to keep this Tournament safe. I was deceived in a way I didn't think possible. That in itself should stand as a dire warning to each and every witch and wizard here. Lord Voldemort is back, and he hasn't lost any of his lethally devious talents. We have but a shortest time to prepare, and then the war will once again be upon us. And now, let's find out how exactly did Voldemort manage to do what he did today."

"The wizard you have known this year as professor Moody," Dumbledore continued, "was actually an impostor, a Death Eater using Polyjuice Potion. As improbable as that is, his name is Bartemius Crouch Jr., and he's not only the son of the high Ministry official of the same name, but he's also been officially dead for years. At the moment Crouch is stunned and tied to a chair in Moody's office. The house-elf Winky here can probably tell us exactly how and why all this came about."

Dumbledore then asked the terrified and shame-faced house-elf to come forward, explained to her what Veritaserum was and persuaded her to drink a gulp of it. Then, bit by bit he got the whole terrible tale of dysfunctional family Crouch out of her.

Breaking the silence that followed, the Headmaster went on: "When Harry returned from the maze tonight with Cedric's body, I asked who I still thought to be Moody at the time, to stay put and watch over them. When he didn't, but took Harry away instead, I knew he must be the traitor. And despite everything, I have to say I was extremely happy it turned out not to be Alastor Moody himself after all."

"Now, it's obvious that Crouch was behind the fact that Harry was entered into the Tournament. The next mystery to be solved is what happened tonight. Viktor Krum was found in the maze stupefied, which, as Harry told me, was his doing because Krum attacked Cedric, and under an imperius curse, which was Barty Crouches handiwork. Would you like to tell us exactly what happened, Viktor?"

"Sertainly" Krum said. "Professor Moody, or Mr. Krauz, was it?…" And he went on to explain how he had been forced to play his part in Voldemort's plot. "I am very sorry, Cedric, for what I did to you," he ended.

"It's all right," Cedric said, "I know it wasn't really you. Apology accepted."

"Thank you," said Krum, looking much relieved.

"But in the end," Dumbledore continued, "something unexpected happened, and everything didn't go according to Voldemort's plan. First of all, Harry stopped imperiused Viktor, then Harry and Cedric fought and defeated the last obstacle together and decided to seize the Goblet together, too. And the Tri-Wirard Cup, which is a portkey, transported both of them, not just Harry, to the place Voldemort had prepared. The destination of the Goblet was not the Tournament goal area where it was supposed to go, but an old neglected graveyard in Little Hangleton."

There were several surprised gasps in his little audience, but also several blank stares. "Some of you know what that signifies," Dumbledore explained. "It's the birthplace of a certain Tom Riddle, later known as Lord Voldemort. I won't go into the details of what happened there, you can pester Harry and Cedric about that later. It's enough to say that Voldemort has returned to his body and full powers. A mystery to solve, however, is how he was able to whisk away Harry and Cedric _without my knowledge._ You see, I _had_ _foreseen_ the possibility and thought I was prepared for it. In short, I had given keystone beacons, a sort of magical tracking devices to both Harry and Cedric, and I had activated the keystone itself when the boys entered the maze. I should have known immediately when they were taken away, and I should have been able to follow. But I didn't get any warning at all. I did feel that the portkey transported them away from the maze, but at the same moment, Harry already appeared in front of my eyes, injured and clutching Cedric's body. Needless to say, at that point it was already too late. Without Fawkes, tonight would have turned out an even darker sort of a tragedy."

"To solve this Riddle, and excuse me for the terrible pun there," Dumbledore said, not sounding the least bit apologetic, "we must examine the Goblet of Fire. Minerva, would you set the Cup on the table there. And everyone, please, stand back a little."

McGonagall levitated the Tri-Wizard Cup onto the table, taking care not to touch anyone with it. Dumbledore then stopped forward, weaving a pattern with his wand. The Goblet started to glow softly white, then the glow changed colour across the spectrum from the deepest red to the most intense violet and all the colours of the rainbow somewhere in between. Different parts of the goblet glowed with different brightness, and the lighting varied constantly as the colour changed. On thin air above the Goblet appeared strange mathematical looking symbols, just one or two at the time at irregular intervals. After reaching ultraviolet the glow changed back to white for a moment, then the first symbol appeared on air once more, and the colour changed into reddish orange. On this second round, there were only some colours, corresponding to the symbols that appeared in the first round. Each colour remained almost constant for quite a while, during which increasingly complex lines of smaller symbols appeared below the main one. To Harry, it looked like a programming code or mathematical equations. He had never thought that magic could be presented in such a scientific manner. It seemed to somehow lessen it, in his eyes. Wasn't it supposed to be, you know, magical?

"Ooh," Hermione said exitedly, "Analytical Arithmancy! I've never seen this before! This is so cool."

"What?" Harry said, "Are you telling me you know about this stuff?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione said, "But that's University level magic. In Britain they only teach it at Oxford. Professor McGonagall refused to put it on the curriculum even if I asked her to."

"Hermione, you're hopeless!" Ron exhaled, and was rewarded with a kick on his shin. But Harry silently agreed with him. Also, he'd had no idea they taught magic in Oxford at all.

Some time later Dumbledore sat in his office with the Minister for Magic. They had just settled in their respective chairs and the atmosphere was somewhat charged.

"I have briefly questioned Barty Crouch and also studied the Tri-Wizard Cup," Dumbledore said. "It's a portkey the like of which I have never seen before, and I'd be very surprised if the Ministry staff had, either._ It can travel through time as well as space._"

"Nonsense! I have already asked for the Ministry records and they show clearly that the portkey left the maze precisely at 10:06:47 pm and appeared on the festival grounds less than a half a second later!"

"Of course it did. That's exactly the point, Cornelius!" Dumbledore demanded, thumping a stack of parchments on dis desk, "I have the results of the analysis right here. The portkey was rigged so that it returned to it's original destination on the goal area immediately after it left that maze. But during that short moment Harry and Cedric spent a couple of _hours_ in the graveyard of a certain notorious Manor House in Little Hangleton."

"Li… Little Hangleton!" Fudge stuttered, visibly shaken.

"I see that you remember the place, Cornelius, " Dumbledore said drily, "Riddle Manor, where several murders have happened before."

"No, it can't be true!" Fudge said in vehement denial. "It's not true. You're lying!"

"I'm afraid it is true, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, gently this time, "I admit that I have sometimes left something unsaid, but I have never outright lied to you, and I'm not lying now, either. Harry was lured there to to use his blood as an ingredient in a complicated potion which gave Voldemort his body back. They did it at Riddle Manor because another ingredient was a bone from his father, who's buried there. I tell you, Voldemort has risen again, and killed again, even if Fawkes unmade that last atrocity. We can easily prove his renewed existence with further magical analysis of the Goblet, a little Veritaserum, and some time to interrogate Barty Crouch. Besides, we have two eyewitnesses to his resurrection."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned on the word of a lunatic murderer and a boy who… well… those poofters cannot be trusted," Fudge said with distaste, "and Potter seems to be a serious headcase anyway."

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter," Dumbledore said drily, but there was a dangerously angry glint in his eyes.

"And if I have?" Fudge asked hastily, but blushing slightly. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place?"

"She's not exactly the most reliable source herself," Dumbledore replied with forced calm, with a new rigidity in his face. "You know as well as I that her standard practise is to warp insignificant or innocent facts into slander and libel. Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. Besides, in a matter this important, I'm sure the boys wouldn't object to the use of Veritaserum on them. That would settle the matter once and for all."

"No it wouldn't," Fudge insisted, a stubborn look on his face. "The effects of Veritaserum can be faked, if there's a sufficiently skillful wizard involved."

"What an earth are you talking about?" Dumbledore asked.

"You have," Fudge said coldly, "always been unhelpful and difficult, Dumbledore, and opposed to the policies the Ministry has tried to uphold. I have finally figured out why. This is all a ruse. All the incidents with Potter during these last years that you claimed have been caused by You-Know-Who. Only there's no hard evidence. Basically we just have your word, yours and some impressionable kids. And I don't trust you, Dumbledore, not any more. You want my job. You're trying to make it look like You-Know-Who is back only to seize the control of the Ministry yourself!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dumbledore cracked, looking at Fudge like he had never seen him before. "I was offered your post half a dozen times, as you very well know. _I turned it down._ I don't _want_ your job, nor do I need it."

"So you think the Ministry doesn't matter," Fudge splattered, "do you? We'll see about that!"

"It can't be both, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, having regained his cool demeanor. "You're not thinking clearly. Why don't we go and question Barty Crouch and Cedric Diggory. A lot of things will become clear, including the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins."

"It's too late for that," Fudge said, gloating, "the order to give the prisoner to the Dementors was issued ten minutes ago, according to the new Ministry policy concerning dangerous individuals who have managed to escape Azkaban. He will be administered the Dementor's kiss right about now, as we speak."

When Dumbledore had left, saying he must question Barty Crouch before his meeting with the Minister, he had asked McGonagall and Snape to go with him and stand guard over Barty Crouch afterwards. And when the effect of Veritaserum wore off Winky was so distressed about the revealed secrets of the family and the possibility of her old master having been murdered by her young master, Madam Pomfrey gave her Calming Draught and put her to sleep in the infirmary. The rest of the group, when finally getting the chance, started to barrage Harry and Cedric with questions about what had happened.

"Were you really dead, Cedric?" asked Hermione. "How did that feel? Did you know what was happening around you?"

"And if you were, how come you're not anymore?" asked Ron.

"What ees this they tell me about a kiss and a phoenix, 'arry?" Fleur wanted to know.

"How did You-Know-Who get his body back?" Bill Weasley inquired. He was a curse-breaker, so this was something he found very intriguing.

The first questions opened veritable floodgates. Hows, whys and wherefores flew so thick in the air that Harry and Cedric couldn't even begin to answer the questions. And nobody would have heard anyway, if they had. But suddenly there was a loud bang and a flash of light. Remus Lupin had his wand out and everybody stared at him, shocked into silence.

"Everybody _calm down_ a bit, please," he said in his soft but slightly raspy voice. "How could they possibly answer everything at once. Why don't we let Harry and Cedric tell what they feel like telling at the moment," he raised his forefinger in rather teacherlike manner, "_if, and only if_ _they feel up to it._ Tonight must have been a _terrible_ ordeal for both of them."

There was a murmur of agreement, and all the eyes turned towards Harry and Cedric. Cedric was sitting in his bed, leaning on the wall behind and Harry was perching on the sideboard of the bed. They looked at each other. Cedric shrugged and Harry nodded.

"You start," he said to Cedric.

"All right…" Cedric said, and composed himself. "It was a dark and stormy night in the Tri-Wizard maze…" he begun, face deadpan, and got some incredulous stares from the audience. And even if he grew seriously serious as the tale went on, it was obvious that Cedric was a great storyteller. He wasn't self-conscious and a bit embarrassed of the attention, as Harry would have been, but obviously enjoyed the experience. He was also able to tell everything in a way that made sense, and even awoke vivid images of what it must have been like in the minds of the listeners.

Cedric told them briefly about the third task and it's different obstacles, how he was attacked by Viktor Krum and how Harry saved him. He told about the giant acromantula and how the Goblet tempted him, and how, despite of the temptation he and Harry ended up sharing the victory.

Then he described the graveyard, and the Riddle Manor, and the hooded figure, and how Harry had insisted they go back to the portkey. There he stopped.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," he said to Harry. "You were right."

"I know." Harry said, "It's all right. We're still here… or rather, again, in your case."

"Thanks to you, Harry." Cedric smiled at him and reached to touch his cheek.

"Oi! for Merlin's sake!" Ron interrupted. "Geddon with it, will you! What happened next?"

This won a barking laughter from Lupin and several chuckles all around. It also got the story back on track. Cedric described how they woke up tied to a gravestone and how Wormtail prepared the potion in _'_a dirty big cauldron' and how he had feared Wormtail was about to kill Harry, but only took some blood. He told with dramatic tones how Voldemort rose from the cauldron and the Death Eaters arrived.

So the story was just arriving to its most dramatic turns, when they were interrupted. They heard a commotion with several hurried footsteps and shouting voices approaching, and Cedric went silent. Lupin rushed to the doors and took a look into the corridor beyond. He dug immediately back and barked in a low voice: "Snuffles! Out!" and the huge dog slunk through the opposite door deeper into the infirmary. Lupin waved his wand and the door closed and locked itself behind Padfoot.

"Hagrid," Lupin then said quickly, "if they ask about it, you had Fang when you arrived but you took it away 'cause this is the hospital wing, okay."

"Aye, of course I had," he agreed, with a huge wink, "Fang was guarding the maze with me."

"Right," said Lupin, and turned to the Diggorys. But Arthur was already conferring with them in a low voice. Harry identified only a word here and there, 'Voldemort', 'the Ministry', 'Fudge' and 'Death Eaters' among them. Whatever he said, both Amos and Penelope nodded in agreement, despite looking a bit overwhelmed.

Only seconds later, the doors to the corridor burst open and several people rushed into the hospital wing. There were six aurors, lead by a a man with short hair reminding Harry of a steel brush, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. McGonagall and the wiry-haired auror were arguing with each other, loudly.

"Regrettable, but all the same," the man said just when they entered, "it's done, and that's that."

"You should never have brought them inside the castle, Dawlish!" McGonagall shouted, obviously furious. "When Dumbledore finds out…"

"Where is Dumbledore, anyway!" asked Dawlish.

"He's not here," professor Sprout said calmly. "This is a hospital wing, Dawlish. The Headmaster went to his office to meet the Minister. Don't you think you'd do better to…"

But just then the doors banged open again, and Dumbledore entered. He wasn't looking nearly as wild as when he had knocked out Barty Crouch, but he didn't look like his usual benevolent self either. His chin was up and eyes were blazing, and the air itself seemed to tremble around him. Fudge trotted in a moment later, red in the face and huffing, winded after trying to keep up with Dumbledore.

"What on earth are you here for, Dawlish?" Dumbledore asked, in a surprisingly calm voice, "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, Severus, I'm surprised at you two! I specifically asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch."

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore," McGonagall answered shrilly "The Minister has seen to that!"

"I know that," Dumbledore answered. "But why didn't you stop that madness?"

"It was six against two," Snape said, "and they had the orders signed by the Minister."

"You should have contested those!" Dumbledore insisted, "Minister, as you should very well know, the power to execute death sentences does not lie within the Ministry, but can only be done by the order of Wizengamot. Moreover, I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and bringing any dangerous creatures here requires my permission. That includes Dementors. You overstepped your authority!"

"I _did_ challenge the orders." McGonagall said, and Harry didn't think he had ever seen her so angry, "but like Severus said, it was six to two, and they forced us out. And then those… things swooped down on Crouch and… and…"

"By all accounts he is no loss," Dawlish interrupted. "It seems he's been responsible for several deaths."

"But he cannot now give testimony, can he?" Dumbledore asked rhetorically. "He cannot give evidence about _why_ he killed those people."

"_Why_ he killed them? Well that's no mystery is it?" Dawlish asked, apparently quite earnest. "He was a raving lunatic. From what Minerva and Severus have told me he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions."

"You're an _auror,_ for Merlin's sake," Dumbledore replied, furious and exasperated. "Alastor taught you better than that. Assumptions are not enough! You have to _know._ Also, it's a sad day indeed when aurors start to execute people without lawful proceedings. And finally, there's the minor fact that he _was_ getting his orders from Lord Voldemort. He was somewhat insane, but he was also shrewd and skillful, and not completely mad."

"Technically," Minister Fudge butted in, "barty Crouch is still alive, so it wasn't an execution. Therefore, I was within my legal powers to give the order."

"Not with Dementors within the school," McGonagall cried, "you weren't! And that's even worse than killing a man. You destroyed his soul!"

"MY DEAR WOMAN!" Fudge roared, loosing his temper altogether, "As Minister for Magic it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous criminal!"

"_Interview_ being the most important word there, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "If you just had done that instead of blindly destroying a key witness, we wouldn't need to argue the point whether Voldemort has returned or not. He has, and the sooner you accept that fact and act accordingly, the better we'll all be prepared when the war starts anew."

"The war? Vol… He Who Must Not Be Named? What are you talking about?" Dawlish asked. He had turned a shade or two paler while following the argument.

"Show them, Severus," Dumbledore requested.

Snape made his way closer, unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and revealed an ugly tattoolike sign on his pale arm. It was a dark sort of inflamed-looking reddish violet, not unlike the colour of a bruise.

"The Dark Mark!" Dawlish exclaimed, looking thunderstruck.

"It was burning coal-black earlier today, when the Dark Lord summoned us," Snape stated in raw voice, "his closest Death Eaters, both faithfull and deserted. I dare say Karkaroff got the message, too."

"Igor Karkaroff was nowhere to be found," Madame Maxime offered from near Fleur's bed.

"No wonder," Dawlish pondered, "if You-Know-Who really _is_ back, he must run and hide, quickly and far away. He betrayed too many Death Eaters to buy his freedom, at his time."

"Enough! This is preposterous!" Fudge shouted. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years! I've had enough. I hereby order everybody to stop spreading rumours that You-Know-Who is back and rallying Death Eaters around him. Dawlish, you take care that other matter. Others, come with me! Let's go back to the Ministry and some level-headed people."

This was, finally, more than Harry could take. "I _saw_ him coming back, and so did Cedric! I can tell you the names of the Death Eaters he summo–"

"I said ENOUGH!" Fudge roared again, and waved his wand. Harry's mouth snapped shut. Fudge strolled over to him, followed by many startled eyes and more than one wandtip. He didn't try any more spellcasting, though. Instead, he took a heavy-looking bag from his pocket and dropped it to the floor in front of Harry.

"Your winnings," Fudge said coldly, and turned away. Five of the aurors turned to follow him, but before they got out of the door, Dumbledore intervened in one last effort to speak sense to the Minister of Magic.

"Cornelius, look at the evidence!" Dumbledore pleaded, "What's happening now is much wider in scope than workings of a single lunatic. I'm not asking you to take my word on it, but_ look at the evidence,_ put your best aurors on it, and you'll find out it's true. Voldemort is back, and it's up to all of us to stop him."

"Dumbledore," Fudge threatened in icy voice, "if you don't stop spreading these _unfounded and destructive rumours,_ I'll see to it that your time as the Headmaster is over! Goodbye."

During the shocked silence that followed Fudge's ultimatum, someone waved his wand and Harry's jaws started to work again. But before he could think of anything to say, Dumbledore himself broke the silence.

"What was that other matter you are supposed to take care of, John?" he asked.

"Er… yes." Dawlish started, looking embarrassed, "Look, we've had our own disagreements, but I… I'll do my best to see that this You-Know-Who business is looked into further."

"I would appreciate that very much," Dumbledore answered. "And the other matter?"

"Well, you see, we got a couple of reports today from the audience, saying that a huge black dog matching the description of the Animagus form of the murderer Sirius Black was seen in Hogwarts several times today, and that he might now be here in the hospital wing."

"That," hollered Hagrid, "would've been Fang, my boarhound, wouldn't it?"

"But I understand your dog is light brown, not black like this one," Dawlish retorted.

"Right. But, ye know…" Hagrid started, but to Harry it seemed he had no idea where he was going with that sentence, so he interrupted.

"The Weasley twins," Harry said, as if it explained everything.

"What about them?" asked Dawlish, looking suspicious.

"It was a stupid prank, really," said Hermione, "they turned it black last week, just to pull Hagrid's leg."

"Really? So where's this black boarhound now?"

"I had it with me when I came," Hagrid answered, back on the track, "but, ye know, this being a hospital and all, took it back to mi cabin there and came back by miself."

"All right," Dawlish said, and looked like he accepted the explanation. "But I'll have to come by and check that hound. Shall we?"

Hagrid looked worried, but nodded all the same. He was looking at Dumbledore.

"Go on, Hagrid," the Headmaster said, "we can manage without you."

"Right ye are, Dumbledore," he said, turned and stooped to avoid the lintel of the door.

When Dawlish and Hagrid had gone, Dumbledore turned and scanned the crowd.

"Bill," he then asked, "could I ask you perhaps to mend the oversight your little brothers did by not dyeing Fang last week?"

"Sure. It'll be faster if I get out of the windows over there. Hagrid and Dawlish have to walk around most of the castle, so I should have ample time."

"Thank you, Bill," Dumbledore said, " I knew I could count on you."

It turned out to be a long night. When Bill had gone, the speculations about Fudge, the threat of a new war and all things considering the events of the day needed to be discussed. Fleur, Viktor and Madame Maxime wanted to know all that had happened to Harry and Cedric, and the rest wanted to hear what had happened after Voldemort had been resurrected. Less than thirty minutes after he had gone, Bill came back together with Hagrid. Dawlish had examined Fang, returned it back to its original colour and left. After hearing that, Lupin let Padfoot back to the room. Dumbledore then asked him to assume his human form, introduced him to those who didn't know him, and explained that he wasn't the mass-murderer he was generally believed to be. Furthermore, Dumbledore made Sirius and Snape to make an uneasy truce, the strength of which many, including Harry and Ron, seriously doubted.

When the most pressing new questions had been asked and discussed, Cedric continued his account of what had happened in the graveyard. The parts he couldn't tell, Harry filled in with his own, somewhat less polished narrative. During the story, Fleur's eyes grew wider and wider, until she finally interrupted.

"You like other boys, Cedric! Why didn't 'ou tell me, you silly man!" she admonished. "Now I feel so stupid for 'arrassing you before the Yule Ball."

Finally, around half past four in the morning Dumbledore told everybody that the gathering was over, and to most of them to go to sleep. All four champions were accommodated together in one of the hospital rooms, under the surveillance of madam Pomfrey, who gave each of them a swig of Sleeping Draught to ensure a night without nightmares. After that, they all dropped like stones.

The ones Dumbledore asked not to go to bed quite yet were Severus Snape, Arthur and Molly Weasley and Amos and Penelope Diggory. Snape's matter was fast. Dumbledore just asked him to do what he must, and Snape left with no further instructions. The others he took to the comfortable chairs in the Headmaster's office on top of the spiralling staircase.

"I hope you are not falling off your feet quite yet," Dumbledore then started, "because I have two more things to discuss with you, and neither benefits from being postponed."

"We're all right, I guess," Amos Diggory answered. "There are so many things running around my mind that I doubt I would sleep anyway."

"Very well. I asked you here because you," Dumbledore nodded to Diggorys, "are Cedric's parents and you," he nodded to Weasleys, "are the next best thing Harry will ever have. I also suspect that at least to some of you, it was rather a severe shock, to find out about the true nature of the bond between Harry and Cedric. I dare say none of you knew about it before yesterday, or am I wrong?"

"I had absolutely no idea," Arthur Weasley said, but he didn't look judgemental. Molly didn't say anything, but her face had frozen in an expression of distaste that didn't suit her friendly face at all.

"Well," Amos said, looking at his wife, "Cedric wrote us a letter a while back, telling us he… likes boys, not girls. I went through the roof, I'm afraid. I even threatened to disinherit him."

"You sure did," Penelope confirmed, smiling. "I myself had a very liberal upbringing, so I was sort of… prepared. I had suspected as much, but I didn't want to believe I was right. And when the letter came, Amos was so disturbed by it that I couldn't… bring myself to… educate him about the matter... not so soon. But then I realised who the other boy was when we met Cedric this, or rather, yesterday morning after breakfast. The looks between the two could hardly be mistaken."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "And Molly, dear?" he then asked gently.

"I don't understand how… how you all can be so… so… worldly about this," Molly huffed. "I think it's completely unnatural. How could you _allow_ _this_ _to happen,_ Dumbledore? Harry's been such a _sweet_ boy."

"He still is," Dumbledore said. "Harry has not changed, exept for growing up. It's only that we know him a little better now. And I wouldn't _have been able_ to stop this from happening, even if I had wanted to. Being gay is _not_ unnatural, Molly. Some of us just are that way, like some of us have red hair. This is not some _accident_ that happened to Harry, it's what he _is._ If you loved him before, you should love him after, too. I tell you, Molly, he is still the same Harry you have cared for and loved like a mother."

"But," and now Molly started to sob, "I have so hoped… he would end up marrying Ginny. They would be perfect for each other, and she's been in… love with him ever since she first set her eyes on him. This… this will break Ginny's heart."

"Ginny knows already, dearest," Arthur hugged his sobbing wife. "She's a beautiful girl and she's strong, too. She'll have to beat the boys away with a stick, mark my words. Besides, she looked just fine, you know, even after the kiss. I was worried about that, so I was watching her."

"And that brings us to another important point," Dumbledore continued. "Please listen carefully, because I believe this might prove critical to their very survival. _You_ _must not_ _try to separate Harry and Cedric. _It's more than a teenage infatuation. I _abhor_ to think what might have happened tonight, if Harry had taken the Goblet alone. They saved one another, those two, and if either had faced Voldemort alone, that wouldn't have been possible."

"How… how can you be so sure it's not just puppy-love, regardless of that?" Penelope asked.

"Because of the kiss," Dumbledore answered with complete conviction. "I don't know how much you know about phoenixes, but for obvious reasons that's been a special interest of mine. The miracle that we witnessed tonight is impossibly rare, but just because of that it has several times been thoroughly examined and a matter of many learned studies. It requires special circumstances to happen. A phoenix is an extremely magical creature, but even a phoenix can't bring anyone back from the death without one crucial ingredient…"

"What?" Amos asked.

"Love," Dumbledore answered simply. "That fragile, miraculous thing. Fawkes had set the spell, so to speak, in the graveyard. But it would all have been for nothing without the final seal. To release the miracle, a token of true love is needed. If Harry had not really loved Cedric, the kiss would have been for nothing. Cedric would still be dead. And vice versa, if Cedric hadn't desperately wanted to come back to his loved one, Fawkes wouldn't even have set the spell. The kiss and what happened after is an irrevocable proof that they really love each other."

The discussion didn't end there. Molly still had misgivings, and when Dumbledore said she should talk to Bill, she almost went ballistic, thinking that Dumbledore meant Bill was gay too. Both Dumbledore and Arthur rushed to assure her that was not the case.

"I just thought," Dumbledore explained, "that Bill is young, but not a teenager any more, and rather more unconventional than you'd like, isn't he, Molly? Well, in this case that might be a good thing, because he could offer you another perspective about Harry being gay. And despite your bones of contention you also trust Bill and his judgement, don't you?"

"Well, yes, I guess," admitted Molly grudgingly, "except for the long hair and that awful earring."

"Talk to Bill, then," Dumbledore said, "and remember that you don't have to understand _why_ Harry and Cedric are different. Only thing required is that you _accept_ the fact that they are. Everything else will follow."

"And if you need to talk about all this," Penelope Diggory added, "I'm almost always available. Drop by, or send an owl. I'd be delighted."

"Thank you, Penelope," Molly said, "I might just do that, if you don't mind."

"I seem to remember," Amos Diggory said at that point to Dumbledore, "that you had some other thing also to discuss with us?"

"You're quite correct," Dumbledore agreed. "Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No, I can't recall that I have," Amos said.

"That's excellent. I would like you both to join. Immediately, if that suits you."

The next days were peaceful compared to all that happened on the day of the Third Task. Harry had to stay another two days in the hospital wing because of his leg wound, which turned out to be rather trickier than most. Small amounts of acromantula venom had after all infested the wound, and it took some time for even such an excellent healer as Madam Pomfrey to cure that kind of infections.

The very first morning in the hospital wing Harry had a chat with Amos and Penelope Diggory, and it was surprisingly pleasant. Harry had feared that meeting, but he got along just fine with Cedric's parents, and their attitude towards him had turned altogether warm and welcoming. Cedric wasn't around, he'd been allowed to leave after Madam Pomfrey's examination had showed him to be healthier than any person had any right to be. Fleur and Viktor had also left the hospital wing with Cedric.

Cedric soon came back though, waving the Daily Prophet.

"I'm dead, apparently," he said, grinning.

"What?" asked his father, gobsmacked.

"Today's paper must have gone to print before they got the report of… you know, the phoenix incident."

"Really," said Penelope, "how strange. Let me see."

Cedric was right. His dead face was plastered on the front page, with a huge headline reading 'Diggory Dead! The Tragedy of Tri-Wizard Tournament!' and several theories of what had happened.

"Well," Harry mused, "I guess they'll rip even bigger headlines tomorrow, then."

But strangely enough, they didn't. Just a day before the end of term Hermione found a correction piece in tiny typeface next to the classified ads, and that failed completely to relate what actually had happened, just putting Cedric back to life and claiming a fault in communications.

"They just don't want to talk about it," Hermione said, "because you're gay."

And Harry had to agree with that.

The winnings Harry had split with Cedric, who refused point blank to take it all. Harry wondered what he should do with the rest, since he already had more than enough gold in Gringotts. He had considered giving the lot to Weasleys, but Arthur turned it down and Molly, she didn't come to visit him at all.

After Harry got out of the hospital wing, he had to face a school full of people who knew he was gay and together with Cedric. To his (very limited) knowledge such a public gay affair was a first for Hogwarts. He asked about it from Hermione, who just said she didn't have the faintest idea.

"What about 'Hogwarts: A History'," Harry asked.

"Don't be idiotic, Harry," Hermione answered. "Even if they recorded love affairs in a history book like that, they certainly wouldn't talk about gay relationships. In some respects, wizarding world is positively Medieval."

But Harry didn't find it so. Of course, he and Cedric both had to endure stupid jokes, less-than-nice nicknames etc., but now that he had nothing to hide, and after all they had gone through, it was surprisingly easy to ignore. And they had supporters, too. Fleur and Viktor, the twins, and many others. One day Ginny hexed Malfoy to oblivion when he had invented an especially colourful way of describing Harry and Cedric's love life. Flittwick, who just walked by, gave Gryffindor fifty points for Ginny's excellent hex. Many muggle-born or half-blood students knew somebody who was gay or at least knew it was relatively common in the muggle world. So they got used to it. It helped a lot of course, that no Rita Skeeter articles on them appeared in the Daily Prophet or, indeed, any writings mentioning their relationship.

"Well, she's not currently in a position to write anything at all," Hermione said enigmatically. She was smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream, but instead of explaining, she left without a word. A quarter of an hour later she came back to show Harry, Ron, Cedric and Ginny a small glass jar with an angry beetle buzzing inside.

"That's never…" Ron started.

"It is indeed," Hermione said proudly. "She's an unregistered Animagus, and I captured her. There's an unbreakable charm on the jar, so she can't transform back to human form."

"Hermione," Ron said, "I love you. I really do."

Despite the lazy last week at school, there also was an undercurrent of urgency in the air. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were preparing a trip somewhere together, and it didn't look like a holiday. Snape, when he reappeared at the end of last week was even gloomier than normally, and that was an achievement in itself. There were owls flying around in odd hours carrying letters, and several aurors dropped by Headmaster's office during the week. Mad-Eye Moody, the real one, got out of the hospital wing and started to talk about the coming war and to plan defences against all possible and impossible feats of Dark Arts.

On the day of the Farewell Feast, Harry went to see Dumbledore. He burst into Headmaster's office, after giving the password, and interrupted a conversation between Dumbledore and the sphinx Onyx. Harry wanted to prove that Cedric and Hermione were wrong in their claim that Fawkes had given his own life for Cedric's and to thank Fawkes profusely for saving Cedric's life in the process. However, Fawkes was nowhere in sight.

"Fawkes is gone, Harry," Dumbledore said in a low and serious voice.

"But," Harry said, around a lump in his throat, "I thought phoenixes didn't die!"

"You can't _kill_ a phoenix, love," Onyx responded and sidled to Harry, curling her tail around him like a comforting arm and speaking before Dumbledore had a chance to say anything, "There's a difference."

"She's right," Dumbledore agreed. "Even if phoenixes hatch very seldom, the world would be filled with them if they never died. It's like Onyx said, they can't be killed, but they can choose to die and move on. Actually the only way a phoenix _can_ die is to give their life for somebody else. It's called the Gift of a Phoenix, Harry, and like the species itself, it is extremely rare. There is only one previous case ever documented on the British Isles."

"But," Harry said again, "how did it happen, then. Cedric... he was dead already. And you've told me yourself that people can't come back, once they are gone."

"That's still true, Harry. Even Fawkes couldn't have saved Cedric if he had already moved on," Dumbledore explained. "But a soul lingers for a while, at least briefly, before going on to the next world, whatever that may be. And, as you can probably imagine from the effects of Fawkes's song, a phoenix can talk directly to one's soul like very few creatures can. We can't discuss with the souls of the people who leave us, unless they choose to stay as ghosts, but a phoenix can. And as you should well know, tears of a phoenix can cure any malady or injury of the body..."

"But I thought," Harry protested again, "that the killing curse doesn't leave any injuries."

"Strictly speaking, that's correct," Dumbledore admitted. "It severes the connection between the soul and the body in which it resides, thus stopping the body from functioning. It leaves no physical injuries in itself, and that's why it's such a mystery to muggles, whenever they come accross its victims. But, just like with any other death, the body starts to disintegrate almost immediately after it dies. The cell structure starts to break, the organs to fall apart, and a phoenix can fix that. Cedric is probably healthier now than he was before his death. But Fawkes, he has moved on instead of Cedric, and we shall see him no more, until it's our time to follow."

And without any other sign of sorrow, a single tear trickled down Dumbledore's cheek. It was large and clear and catched sunlight beautifully. To Harry, it was almost as precious as a tear of a phoenix, for it proved both that Dumbledore had not lost his humanity in the tangle of politics, war and intrigue he had immersed himself in, and that he trusted Harry enough to show it. Harry fell silent, nodded to both the Headmaster and the sphinx and saw himself out. He needed to be with Cedric.

THE END


	22. Epilogue

Hello there, dear readers.

Surprised you, didn't I?

Long time has passed since the last upload, and I'm woefully sorry some of you have been waiting for this for er… two and a half years or so. I rather doubt it's worth that much waiting, but I've done my humble best to make this dessert hot, sweet and sticky like a warm chocolate pudding or, I suppose, a treacle tart (never had one, I'm sorry to say), and laid it out as nicely as I could think of. Garnished with flowers, no less.

Warnings: Contains slash and is rather smutty. And fluffy. You can decide which is worse.

;)

I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Hugs,

Takeo

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**The Story of Harry and Cedric **

by Hermione Granger

a sample

_The moniker 'Boy Who Lived' is a curious one. From the very beginning it was in the past tense, even if Harry was still alive. That discrepancy, I believe, contributed to the startled reactions people exhibited when they met Harry for the first time. Because of the past tense of the moniker, they had been used to the idea that Harry wasn't a real, living, breathing person, but instead a hero of a fable. Furthermore, Harry was so very young at the time the moniker was born that it could easily be argued that he had barely lived at all, before Voldemort killed his parents. He couldn't remember anything clearly from before it, so his life really only began after he got the famous scar. So why the past tense? Why not 'Boy Who Lives' instead?_

_The answer of course is that the moniker itself is a fable, albeit a really short one. It is a story of Harry distilled to the bare minimum. A slightly longer version would be 'The Boy Who was hit by a killing curse and Lived to defy Voldemort' or 'The Boy Who should have been killed by a mortal curse, but Lived on'. The extraordinary thing is not that he lives, billions of people do, but that he lived through the curse that should have finished him off. In this case, the past tense never meant that Harry had stopped living. Indeed, he still hasn't._

_Similarly, 'The Boy Who Loved' doesn't mean that the love is finished and done with, but it is a short story about an incredible event and an extraordinary hero. The Boy Who Loved so much, and so purely, that he received the ultimate blessing. Against all odds, all boundaries of belief, Cedric was saved from the clutches of Death itself and lived happily, well, if not ever after, at least years and decades onwards. And all because of love._

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**THE BOY WHO LOVED**

**Epilogue**

**19 days later**

It was high summer and the sun was hot, bees were buzzing and couples headed to parks and beaches all over Britain. A new war had started, if only in preparation, but muggles didn't know that, the Ministry didn't believe it, and even for those select few who knew and believed, this perfect day offered some consolation and a nice interlude before the dark days they knew were coming.

Harry and Cedric stole the day for themselves. They had been adviced against it (by Hermione), forbidden from doing it (by Molly) and helped to sneak out without getting caught (by Fred & George, obviously). Now, they strolled at their leisure along a path in a park. They'd just bought and eaten most excellent cones of lemon sherbet from an ice cream cart. They had backpacks with towels, food, drink and something to read in them. On their left there was a football field with a team of boys practising. To their right, a gently rolling lawn with groups of oaks scattered on the slightly higher ground.

However cute and shirtless some of the football boys were, Harry and Cedric took no more than a passing interest in them. Cedric headed half a mile or so further towards a rather large patch of old forest preserved within the park.

"Where are you taking me?" Harry inquired when they entered into the rustling shadow of the huge ancient oak trees.

"Well," Cedric said, "I've never been here, but I think we could use some privacy, dont't you?"

"Sure," Harry said, "I don't mind privacy. Especially if it's private enough…"

"I hope it'll do, love," Cedric said. "Or what would you say about an old sacred grove with permanent muggle repellent spells and an ancient shrine dedicated to love?"

"Wow," Harry answered. "That sounds… pretty intimidating, actually…"

"We don't have to do anything, if it doesn't feel right," Cedric assured him.

"Right," Harry muttered, but he still nurtured misgivings, despite his curiosity about the place Cedric was leading him to.

But when they found the place, Harry was sold. It wasn't any grand and pompous romanesque ruin he realised he'd been expecting, but a charming orchard with lots of old but healthy apple and cherry trees standing on a meadow bursting with all sorts of wild flowers. In the middle of the trees there was a cozy little alcove of sorts, with what looked like a natural spring of water flowing from the bottom of a stone basin, then bubbling merrily away as a small brooklet. Behind the basin there was a bed of softest, greenest grass, divided from the rest of the orchard by a low stone wall topped with ancient oak pillars supporting an equally weathered frame of rafters. There was no roof though, only delicate green vines climbing all over the old stone and wood.

"Those look exotic," Harry remarked, " I don't think I've ever seen that kind of vines before."

"Neville must be rubbing off on you," Cedric said, "I wouldn't have thought you'd notice."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "you know how he gets. It's hard not to learn something when he is so enthusiastic about the plants and stuff. So what is it?"

"Cupid's Vine," Cedric said, "I don't know much about it, except it has some magical properties and it's often used in love potions and stuff like that. People claim it only blossoms when true lovers make love beneath it. I thought maybe we'd give it a shot?"

"It doesn't even have buds yet," Harry said. "So I guess we're here at the wrong time of year."

"Maybe," Cedric said, and shrugged.

The first kiss was light, sweet and still tasted of lemon. The boys had settled on the grassy bed with their beach towels and gotten comfortable, which in plain English meant that they had gotten rid of their shirts and given their hands free rein. That, as it happens, pretty soon made the boys forget their beautiful surroundings.

"Do you…" Harry hesitated, breaking the rather heated kiss they were sharing, "do you think we could do it the other way today?"

"You mean…" Cedric left the question hanging in the air.

"I," and now Harry blushed, severely, "I'd like to try… you know… being on top."

"But you've been," Cedric said, perplexed, "on top plenty of times… Oh! You mean…"

"Yeah," Harry said, a bit too quickly. "So can I?"

"Sure." Cedric grinned. "I rather like you being all manly and everything, you know. Come here, handsome."

And Harry leaned forward, and they kissed again, the action gradually turning wetter, sloppier and more breathless. After a while Harry started to travel down from Cedric's mouth, kissing his way across his neck, licking his slightly sweaty collarbone and then diving to sniff and nuzzle the patch of dark hair under his arm. Harry still couldn't believe how good Cedric smelled to him, the sweatier the better. It seemed like Cedric's scent was the perfect aphrodisiac for him, and it made Harry hard and eager.

However, Harry had a plan to stick to, and the first step was to make sure Cedric would be enjoying himself, and be as relaxed as possible, when it would be time for… well, he'd think about the mechanics later. Or just improvise.

Now, Harry gave Cedric's ticklish side a playful lick and let his lips travel to Cedric's nipples, gaining a sudden intake of air between Cedric's teeth. He slid lower, his tongue marking the path between Cedric's pecs down to his navel, then along the trail of hairs, fuzzy at first, but thick and coarse at the base of his cock. It jumped eagerly at Harry's touch. Harry licked the head and swirled his tongue around it before inhaling as much of Cedric's hardness in his mouth as he could. That still left enough of the base to be gripped with his fingers. He started to wank Cedric while sucking him at the same time, which made Cedric moan and writhe in the most rewarding fashion on the grass. Harry didn't stop, quite the opposite, and increased the tempo a bit. Not much later he noticed Cedric's balls tightening with the promise of an oncoming orgasm.

"Hey, Harry… you'd better stop… before I loose it," Cedric managed to warn him between his breaths.

Since Cedric loosing it was definitely his goal, Harry didn't pay his words any attention. Instead, he added his left hand to the mix and gently cupped Cedric's balls in his palm. That was enough. Cedric lost it, and his first load shot out and into Harry's grinning, slurping mouth. Cedric came copiously, in several more spurts that Harry didn't collect in his mouth like the first one, but instead let them fly, splatter and pool on Cedric's flat tummy instead. His plan had re-emerged.

Gently spreading Cedric's long legs, Harry wetted his fingers in the viscous liquid now covering Cedric's body and carefully inserted first one, then another digit into Cedric's arse. Happy, relaxed and obliging Cedric spread his legs some more to make his preparations easier. The gesture turned Harry on more than was strictly speaking decent, and he felt a heady rush of blood into his lower regions. He wondered in passing if this wonderful, hot surge of light-headed desire was in fact just a symptom of the lack of oxygen in his brain. If so, he didn't mind. The sight of Cedric sprawling in front of him, legs spread and his manhood half soft but still big, heavy and oozing against the top of his leg made Harry beside himself with want. He removed his fingers halfway and let a mixture of his spit and Cedric's spunk fall from his mouth on them for more lubrication.

With his right hand, Harry managed to grope his wand from the entangled heap of clothes. He pointed it to his member.

"Lubricatum Masculinus," Harry muttered under his breath, and there it was, the shimmering sheath of lubrication spell, making sure Cedric wouldn't be hurt by his possibly clumsy first attempt at fucking another boy. Harry tossed the wand aside.

"Here goes," he then said, nudged himself deeper between Cedric's legs, removed his fingers and used his wand hand to point his cock in the right direction. Harry pushed, followed by the slightly amused but very much approving gaze of his lover, and felt the head of his cock slip inside. They both gasped.

Cedric had, obviously, been enjoying himself immensely while Harry had been giving him that most excellent blowjob. He had smiled to himself watching the serious determination on Harry's face when he made the preparations for the main number. But now, when Harry made his entrance, as it were, he was filled with not only an ample amount of hardness, but also an overwhelming feeling of tenderness and affection, of love for Harry and a desire much deeper than mere bodily lust. Despite being older and strikingly good-looking, he really didn't have that much more experience than Harry, and so far Oliver had been the only lover who had ever shagged him. The others had been flimsy and fast hand- and blowjobs, mostly fun but in the end not very satisfying affairs. He desired this intimate closeness with Harry to go on for years and years, to have this wondrous boy to grow into a man beside him, to share his life with his; body, heart and mind. He wanted this amazing here and now, this present moment that was constantly turning into a memory of making love to Harry, to continue infinitely into the unknown future, to bind them together for all their lives.

And then, just when these half-formed ideas, more instinctive than intellectual, had time to register in the conscious part of his mind, Harry touched the sweet spot inside him, and Cedric's world turned incandescent with pleasure. All thoughts forgotten, he wrapped his long legs around Harry's waist and tightened his arms around Harry's shoulders. Hungrily and blindly, eyes tightly shut, he sought Harry's mouth with his own and kissed him, rough and needy. Harry started to rock his pelvis, thrusting into him and stroking again and again that bud of pleasure inside him. Cedric opened his eyes and found Harry's amazing green eyes staring at him intently. And he gazed back, how could he not. It was so good, he felt like he could see into the very core of Harry Potter, and it was just as honest and true as the rest of him.

"Yes," Cedric gasped, when another spasm of delight claimed him. "Fuck."

"What?" Harry asked between his breaths.

"Fuck me," he said. "Harder."

And Harry did. It became hot, and raw, and very much physical. Their limbs and muscles and bodies were locked together but still moving, almost like in a desperate fight but in fact mating. Their fingers were scratching red marks on sweaty skin in their bid for even more closeness. Cedric was totally hard, his cock trapped between their bodies and in the sticky goo of his first orgasm. After a while Harry's moves started to loose the rhytm and become unpredictable, predicting the imminent explosion. When it came, it hit them both with a force of an eartquake, making their bodies rattle and their shouts incoherent. Cedric actually didn't know if he was shouting, but someone certainly was, and it sort of sounded like him. The only thing he could do was to keep looking at those incredible green eyes.

"So," Harry asked after a while, when their tremors had calmed down, still looking at him. "I did good, didn't I?"

"Darling, baby, my love. It was _so_ good," Cedric said. "Better than good. Perfect. Mindblowing."

"Better than Oliver?" Harry asked, looking sheepish.

"Who?" Cedric asked. "Whoever you mean, you just made me forget all about him. I love you, Harry."

And when he finally looked away from Harry's eyes and let his gaze slide above their heads, he saw that the flowers of the Cupid's Vine were blossoming.

"Look," he breathed. "The vine. It's in full bloom."

And it was. New flowers were budding and opening even as he spoke.

After they'd got their breath back in control and their limbs more or less in order, Harry reached over for Cedric's hand while they were lying side by side on their backs, watching the sparse clouds travel on the dizzyingly blue summer sky above the silhouetted, flowering branches.

"Do you think we'll ever get to live happily ever after?" Harry asked, twining his fingers in between Cedric's.

"Do you think anybody does?" Cedric asked in return.

"No," Harry said after giving it some thought, "I guess not. Not like in fairy tales. Life's probably full of trouble whatever you do, no matter how much you love somebody."

"But," Cedric said, "loving somebody makes it all worthwhile, I think. Especially you."

"Yeah," Harry said, "it does." He kissed Cedric for good measure and mused on the thought a bit longer. "You do," he then added.

For the moment, he was content. All around them, scarlet and pink petals floated down by the hundreds, some of them sticking to the remains of their lovemaking on their skin. Up on the vines the flowers maturing into fruits were replaced by new flowers, budding, opening and maturing again at an incredible speed. It was like watching days and weeks of growth condenced into a few minutes.

Sometimes, Harry mused, life was simply amazing. Almost like… you know, magic.

THE END (again)


End file.
